


Sherlock's Important Deduction.

by Tindomerelhloni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first work of fanfic. Well writing of any type.. My grammar will be off. But I don't really care : )</p><p>*** I just realized I had my timeline off!!! There is only a day between "The Blind Banker" And the explosion across from 221B So, as of  (Chapter 8) now I'll have to progress with my story line. I had a little bit planned for fluff in between, but I think I can make do! Sorry that I screwed up!!****</p><p>http://bakerstreet.wikia.com/wiki/Sherlock_Timeline</p><p>Also, I plan on using bits from John's blog... SO, If anything is ever labeled as "John's blog" Chances are I didn't write it. Though this might change!</p><p>http://www.johnwatsonblog.co.uk/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Violin Lessons.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to give me any feedback you have. I'm kinda just going with an idea here. I'll try to specify when it is from Sherlock's PoV or Johns. 
> 
> Also, I'm not sure how often I'll upload chapters. Frequently, I hope! I really enjoyed writing this.

*Sherlock*

I think I’m in love with John Watson. John and his, girlfriend, Sarah had been kidnapped by some members of the Black Lotus Gang. The second I knew John was missing my heart sank. I realized then that I cared for him, more than as a friend.  
They had John, and Sarah, tied to a chair. The sight gave me pause. Never before had I thought of John that way. But the twinge in my pants was undeniable. I shook the thought off and assessed the situation.  
I saved them, and of course solved the case. Well, really, John saved Sarah. I was busy fighting off a crazed lunatic. 

 

*A few days later*

Tonight is just like any other night in 221B Baker Street. John is sitting in his chair, typing up our last case, I assume. I’m pacing, mindlessly composing something on my violin. Neither of us have spoken in a few hours.  
“Nice, that.” John breaks the silence. Looking up at me from his chair.  
Our eyes meet briefly, and I see an image of him tied to a chair. This time though, it is my chair.  
I look away and mutter “Mmmhmm….”

John goes back to typing, and I go back to my violin. But my head is full of images of Doctor John Watson tied to my chair. I must have missed a note because John looks up, one eyebrow raised. “Alright, mate?”  
Mate.. he called me mate…  
“Yes John. Have you ever tried to play the violin? I assume I make it look quite easy. But I assure you, it isn't.”  
“Uh, No. No I haven’t.”  
A thought comes to me… “Want to give it a try? See if I’m right?”  
I shouldn't be excited. But John and I hadn't talked much since that night when get almost got killed. A case of mistaken identity… My fault really.  
“Uh, sure?”  
“Well, come on then! You can’t learn with that laptop glued to your lap!”  
John stands up, straightening his shirt as he does.  
I hand him my violin and move so I stand behind him.  
We were so close…. I shake my head.  
I reach an arm around him and show him how to position the violin so it is being supported by his collarbone. I have to move closer to position his other hand, and the bow. My body is pressed against his back, one hand on his shoulder keeping his elbow bent correctly.  
“The violin should rest on your collarbone. Now support, not hold up, the violin with your hand. No, like this, John.”  
I was breathing heavily. I needed to control myself. No, that was John. John’s breath was coming in short heavy breaths.  
“Are you alright, John?”  
“Eh, oh, yeah.. um…” He trails off.  
I show him the basic notes and have him repeat them back to me.  
John plays a few notes… well tries.  
I chuckle. “Not that easy, is it?”  
“Why is it, Sherlock, that you only laugh when you are laughing at my expense.”  
“Expense? No, John. Around you.. yes. Never at you.” Have I said too much? I’m not myself tonight. I feel.. Human?  
John tries a few notes again, the violin half falling down his collarbone.  
Jokingly I roll my eyes. He can’t see that, good. “Here.” Moving closer against his body I re positioned the violin.  
John leans into me. I feel that twinge in my pants again. I don’t fully understand my feelings. I’m starting to get hard, and we are so close that I won't be able to hide it. So, I take a step back. Immediately my chest feels cold. How had I not noticed how warm he was?  
“Don’t, Sherlock.” He breathes my name like it was sweet honey on his lips.  
“John… I…” My voice fails me.  
John puts the violin down and turns to face me. He is inches away from me. His hands, which are usually clasped behind his back, and now clasped in front of him. We are so close that I can feel his hand brush up against my belt. God, I am so hard…  
I go to move a step back again, but his hands find my hips and hold me still.  
“Just this once, Sherlock, listen to me. Don’t go.”

How did this happen? One minute I was trying to show off, the next he has his hands on my hips while I have an erection attempting to burn a hole through my pants! I blink, trying to clear my thoughts. Instead in the split second my eyes are closed I see an image of John, tied to my chair. Stripped to his boxers, one of my ties shoved in his mouth and secured there by duct tape.  
“John… I..” Trying to rid myself of those thoughts left me speechless.  
“Sherlock, for such a massive intellect, you really are quite daft.”  
“I like you, John.” There I said it.. Oh God! I said it!  
“You don’t say?” He says glancing down.  
I feel embarrassed. I wish I could hide my erection.. A minute goes by, it feels like ages. His eyes are now locked on my crotch, his glance making my pants get even tighter. He looks, eager? I don’t trust my deduction.  
“Right now, if you could do anything, what would you do to me?”  
The question brings back the image of him tied to my chair. I say nothing.  
“You chose now to have nothing to say?”  
“I would have you. In this room. But first, I would strip you to your boxers. Then tie you to my chair…” I relay the whole image in my head before I even realize I’m saying anything. God, why do I talk so fast?  
Something hard presses against my erection. John has stepped closer, and his crotch, his erection, is pressed against mine.  
“All this before you've even taken me out to dinner?” John softly laughs into my ear.  
I sigh, and breath him in. He smells like rain. I give in, and pull him into an embrace. One like I have never felt before. A full 5 minutes go by, and I break away. My chest cold in his absence.  
Unsure, I take him by the hand and lead him to my bedroom.  
“Your blazer would look better on my floor.” A coy smile plays across my lips as I remove his blazer. It falls to the floor in slow motion.  
“Is this ok, John?” I didn't mean to whisper.  
“Yeah..” John clears his throat. “Yeah. I’d, uh, be lying if I said I've never thought of this.”  
He smiles up at me. It isn't his normal smile, but it is beautiful, and shy… I place my hand on his face, cupping his cheek. My thumb traces circles over his cheekbones. I could feel a small amount of stubble under my fingers… Hot.. That’s what it was.  
“I want you, John, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it.”  
I move my fingers to the buttons on his shirt. I start at the collar and work my way slowly down. Never taking my eyes off the next button. I can feel slight shivers running down his torso… So hot…  
When the last button is done, I push the shirt off his shoulders and let gravity take over. I take him in… He’s toned, very toned. My eyes stop at his left shoulder. There is a scar. Ah yes, he had been shot in Afghanistan. Of course there would be a scar. I bend down, and softly plant a kiss on the scar. My lips work their way up his neck, stopping at his chin, just under his lips. I pull back and smile.  
“Shall we?” I say motioning to the bed.


	2. The night.

“Shall we?” I say motioning to the bed.

“Sherlock, uh….”  
His hesitation makes me smile. “Don’t worry, John.” I climb into bed and pull him in with me. Causing a small chuckle from him.  
He lays down, leaving a space between us.   
“I roll onto my side and look at him. Normally I can read people in seconds. I can’t read anything other than stubble, he shaved yesterday.   
“John, what do you want from me?”   
He turns over and looks at me. “I don’t know, Sherlock.” He sighs. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought about this. Us. When Mrs. Hudson asked if we’d be needing the second bedroom, I wanted to say ‘No.’ “  
I place my hand on his shoulder. My fingers absently trace his scar.”Did it hurt? Getting shot?” Dumb question… But people chat, this was chatting. Right?  
“No, just like a walk in the park.” We both giggle. I never giggle. At least not before I met Captain John Watson. Something tells me I should tell him that.  
“John, before, when you asked why I laugh at you..”  
“Sher…”  
“No, please let me finish. I’m not laughing at you. Before meeting you, John, I never laughed. Sure as hell never giggled. But you bring that out in me. You make me feel, well, human.”  
John smiles. Such a handsome smile. One that reaches to the corners of his eyes.   
“Why do you still have your shirt on, Sherlock? I have half a mind to take it off.”  
All I can do is smile and half mumble “Mmmm.”  
Seeing that as an invitation, he sits up and swings a leg over my waist. His naked chest looms above me. The way he looks in the dim light is intoxicating.  
He leans forward a little, and places his hands on my shoulders. We stay like that for a moment just taking each other in. My eyes flick back and forth between his chest and his eyes. Yet his eyes never leave mine. His hands move to my shirt and he works the first button free. He moves down the line, slowly freeing each button. All the while his eyes never leave mine.   
My shirt is now open and John starts running his hands up and down my chest… I’m shocked at how good that feels.  
I put my arms around his waist and shift a little so I can sit up. He holds onto me for support. “I’m going to kiss you now.” I don’t wait for a response. I pull him closer with one hand and cup his face with the other. My fingers curl under his chin, and tilt his head up. Our lips meet. It was like my first high. There was electricity…  
I feel back onto my pillow with a sigh. “Come here.” I say opening my arms.   
John lays down and nuzzles his head into my shoulder. his right hand reaches over my chest and slips into my hair.  
“Can we stay like this all night?” He looks up and kisses my chin. Our lips meet again… His lips are soft, he tastes like strawberry jam. He smells like rain.  
I pull him closer and hold him tight. I don’t want this to end. A thought comes to me and I chuckle softly. The great Sherlock Holmes is spooning. With a man, no less!   
Something wakes me in the wee hours of the night. It was John. I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since I was 5. A thunderstorm had awakened me. Mycroft had heard my soft cries. He came into my room and spent the rest of the night with me explaining what caused the lightning.   
But here is John Watson, in my bed. Not because I was a frightened child. But because we were grown men in love. I fell asleep with my fingers in his hair, and a smile on my face.

*John*

I woke up early. Sherlock had a hand him my hair. The other was stretched out under his pillow. I don’t want to move, but it was my bladder that had woken me. Reluctantly I slip out of Sherlock’s arm, plant a kiss on his nose and shuffle off to the bathroom.   
By the time I was done, Sherlock was up and sitting on, no sprawled across, the sofa. “Morning.” As I lift his legs and slip under them.  
“John… should we talk about last night?”  
“Yes. Lets see.. Last night I kissed a man and spooned with the great Sherlock Holmes. Oh, And I’ve found out that you want to tie me up. Have I missed anything?”  
Sherlock just grins. Such a silly, happy grin.  
Sherlock gets up, muttering something about “Bathroom.” and “Be back in a sec.”  
Just then a knock and Mrs. Hudson’s “Yoohoo” sounds from the door. “Morning boys. I’ve brought you some tea.”  
“Ah, morning, Mrs. Hudson.”  
She places the tea on a small table and starts puttering about in the kitchen. She’s the best non-housekeeper I’ve ever had.   
Sherlock comes out of the bathroom, and seeing him makes me realize that neither of us have shirts on.   
God bless Mrs. Hudson. She doesn't even bat her eyes at us.   
Judging by the sound coming from the kitchen she’s found one of Sherlock’s experiments. She’s muttering something to herself as she hurried downstairs. We look at each other and burst out laughing.   
"Shall I get our robes?" Sherlock asks between laughs.   
"No. Well, she's gone now. No harm done." I get up and bring the tea and biscuits to the coffee table. Sherlock rejoins me on the sofa. Quite in the same position. But this time it is his head in my lap rather than his legs.   
I can tell that this is going to be the greatest adventure I've ever gone on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't decide if I should make this part of chapter 2 or not. Still figuring it out. Sorry guys! 
> 
> Last Chapter - "No. Well, she's gone now. No harm done." I get up and bring the tea and biscuits to the coffee table. Sherlock rejoins me on the sofa. Quite in the same position. But this time it is his head in my lap rather than his legs.  
> I can tell that this is going to be the greatest adventure I've ever gone on.

*John*... Continued

 

But this time it is his head in my lap rather than his legs.   
I put my hand is his hair. For so long I've wanted to play with these curls. The way they bounce when he moves drives me crazy. When he is in his mind palace, his slight but short movements make his hair wiggle in the most adorable way.  
I twist one of his curls around my finger, surprised at how soft it is.   
“We haven’t even touched the tea.”   
“That would require me to move. I don’t want to move.”  
I put my free hand on his chest and he places a hand on mine. God.. the butterflies… He just smiles up at me.   
“Who are you, and what have you done with Sherlock?”   
His thumb makes small circles on my hand… This shouldn't excite me so much, but it does. I can feel myself getting turned on. Great. Now I’ll have a raging hard-on in Sherlock’s face. That just turns me on even more.. God. Why did I have to go and think that. Maybe he wont notice the bulge growing in my pants. Ha! He’s bloody Sherlock Holmes. Of course he’ll notice.   
“And what is making you so excited this morning, Doctor Watson?” Sherlock says with a smirk.  
“I have half a mind to smack that smirk off your face. You know blood well what has me going.”  
He just chuckles and closes his eyes.  
I lean over him and pour myself some tea before it gets cold. I smile as my face is momentarily pressed against my erection.   
“You’d better grab a biscuit before I eat them all. I’m starved.”  
He fishes around the plate with his hand for a biscuit. Not even bothering to look. Almost knocking the tea over in the process.  
“Oi! Watch it, mate!”  
He just grins as he shoves the biscuit in his mouth.   
“And don’t go getting crumbs on my lap!”   
I finish my tea then pat the side of his head. “Alright, love, I’m going to go take a shower. You gonna join me?”  
I lift his head and slip out from underneath him. He doesn't follow me and I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.   
I turned the water on and climb in. I lean against the shower wall and try to take in everything that has happened in the last 12 hours. I was so deep in thought that I didn't even hear the bathroom door open. I only realized it when I heard the shower curtain move. Startled, I look up. And there is Sherlock… in all his glory. God! How had I never noticed those muscles?   
“May I join you?” His voice is so deep… so sexy… I’m too stunned to say anything so I just step aside to make room for him. He steps in, just under the water. “God, Sherlock…” is all I can say.   
It is all I can do to keep my eyes above his waist. He does something that makes me lose all resolve. He pins me against the fucking shower wall. His body is pressed against mine, he grabs my wrists and lifts them above my head and holds them there with one of his hands. His other face cups my face and he kisses me. Such a bloody fantastic kiss, it makes me moan. I can’t help it. He moves his hand to my waist, all the while kissing me. He leans in a little closer, his rock hard cock presses against mine. I start gyrating my hips and he does the same. He grabs my ass, pulling me even closer.   
“Sherlock, I don’t know how much more I can stand.” I half moan, half plead..  
“Mmmmm? is that a promise?” With that his hand moves to my cock. His long fingers slide up and down my shaft, all the while he is still grinding his hips against mine. Our pace quickens and our breath now comes deep and heavy.   
“John?” … God that deep voice… “God, cum with me, John!”  
I needed no other encouragement. Hell, just hearing him say that would have been enough for me. An orgasm rippled through my body. It made my knees go weak and I slid down the shower wall. Sherlock did the same and sat next to me.  
“That, was amazing.” I put my head on Sherlock’s shoulder.   
“I know.” he says in true Sherlock fashion. Always the humble one, him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my dear friend Sherly. Love you, darling and thinking of you.


	4. The couch.

*Sherlock*

We sat in the shower until our skin wrinkled. We talked a little, but mostly we just sat. John never stopped leaning on me.

Its mid morning by the time we get dressed. I opt for a bright purple shirt. I’m feeling extra cheerful today.  
“Sherlock! I’m going to run down to the Cafe and grab a proper breakfast. Want me to bring you anything?”  
I’m buttoning my shirt as I step out of my room.  
“Or on second thought, we can stay in….” His voice trails off as he watches me fasten the last few buttons.”  
“Yes, John. I didn’t eat anything during our last case. Thank you”  
“Right then. I’ll be back in half a moment.”  
He is half way down the stairs when I run after him. I catch him on the landing. I lean down and kiss him. One long kiss that makes my head swim. I turn around and walk back up the stairs. I can hear him clear his throat before he continues on.  
I look around for John’s laptop. It’s on the floor by his chair.   
Password… This should be easy. He’s an army man, medical man… It won’t be just a name. Probably a series of numbers with meaning behind them. It only took me two tries to get it right.   
I browse around. Not even sure why I’m on his laptop, I was just bored. There was a document saved on the desktop. “The Blind Banker” Really? Where does he come up with these names? I skim through it.  
About 15 minutes later I hear John in the hall downstairs. I shut his computer off and put it back where I found it. He’d probably be put off that I was using it.  
I decide to help John. He’d like that. Again I catch up to him on the landing. I cup his face in both hands and kiss him. Then I grab the bag of food and walk up the stairs, leaving him speechless. I grin once my back is turned to him.   
I go to put the food on the table. On second thought… I really should move my lab equipment off the table…  
Couch it is.

*Later same day*

 

John is sitting at the desk typing. “The Blind Banker” I assume. Just another romantic tale of our adventures.   
I walk up behind him, lean over and wrap my arms around his chest, placing my head on his neck. He smells like rain, this scent is starting to mean safty for me. He has saved my life more than once. So far.  
I kiss his neck leaving little wet marks where my mouth was. I kiss under his chin, right in the hollow of his neck. My lips find his pulse. Elevated. John stops typing. I hiss up his neck, stopping at his ear. I try something… I softly bite his earlobe. This causes a moan to escape his lips. I bite a little harder, and get a slightly louder moan. I get up abruptly. “Don’t move!” I call striding to my bedroom. I come out a few minutes later holding handcuffs, rope and tape.   
John just looks up at me with one eyebrow raised.   
I walk back over to him and gently lift him up so he’s standing.   
He’s just wearing jeans and a T Shirt. I take off his shirt and start on his trowers.   
Soon he’s standing just in his pants. I take the handcuffs and because I don’t want to hurt him, decide to cuff his hands in front of him.  
“Writs. Please.”  
He obeys, so he is rewarded with a smile.   
“Good man. Now, sit please.” I motion back to the chair. I tie his ankles to the legs of the chair. That image I had of him tied to a chair didn’t even come close to this. The way he looked up at me… I believe I’ve heard them described as “Puppy Dog Eyes.”   
I place a small strip of tape over his mouth. “Good thing you are clean-shaven.” I say with a wink.  
I stand back and soak in the image once more.   
“Now, my dear Doctor. What shall I do with you?”  
I sit on his lap, facing him. I plant a kiss on the tape, right over his mouth. He moans. I move closer and my erection presses against his….   
I kiss his neck again, and this time he leans into the kisses while moving his hips.   
“Enjoying this are you?” I say between kisses.  
He wraps his still cuffed hands around my neck and pulls me closer. I reach down and start teasing his cock through his pants. He exhales sharply and his eyes roll back into his head.   
Deciding I want his mouth free, I remove the tape with my free hand.  
The way he kisses me… Open mouth, face pressing into mine, and every now and then his teeth grab my bottom lip.  
I try my hand at biting his lip. This rewards me with John sighing into my mouth. His fingers find their way into my hair. The added sensation of him playing with my hair is enough to send me into climax right then and there. I don’t want this to be over, so I get up, untie his legs and say, “Come here.” As I guide him up. I pick him up, his arms are still around my neck, so he wraps his legs around my waist.   
I bring him over to the couch, and lay him down. Positioning myself so I’m slightly on top of him.   
We stay like that, spooning and kissing for what seems like ages. Yet, time seems to stand still when I am with this man.  
“Hmmm I’m wearing too much.” I say as I gently pry myself from his arms and stand up.  
“Sherlock..?” He seems unsure of something. “Could I… *ahem* undress you?” His face flushes slightly.  
“Of course, Doctor Watson. Shall I uncuff you?” Little red marks were starting to form on his wrists. I detested the idea of this man in pain.  
“Mmm… please.”  
With a slight *Click* the cuffs are off and I place them on the desk.   
John’s hands immediately go to my shirt. He practically rips my shirt off. “Careful!” I say with a chuckle. My belt and trousers are next. Soon we are both standing in just our pant.  
I push him back onto the couch and climb back on top of him. He pulls me down and we kiss.   
This man had been living with me… how had it taken me this long to realize how I felt about him?  
“John?” I pause.. It’s my turn to feel uncertain. He pulls back, eyebrow raised as if to say, “What?”  
I look into his eyes, trying to find the answer without having to ask my question.  
“How far do you want this to go.” I sit up a little and motion to us.  
He smiles wide, pulls me back down. And with his mouth less than an inch away from mine says,”Sherlock. I want you to fuck me.” Then he kisses me…

My head is spinning. All I can taste and smell is rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to anyone who catches the "Bilbo" comment. 
> 
> Also... John smells like rain... Having a hard time thinking of what Sherlock smells like. Any ideas?


	5. My Doctor Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is short, I'm sorry... But I didn't want to draw out the sex... It is lovely, and beautiful. Don't want to use all my ideas in one scene!

I get up, take John by the hand and lead him to my bedroom. John shuts the door behind us. I plop onto my bed, lay on my back and hold my arms open to him. He jumps on me with enough force to make me go “hhmmppf”. I wrap my legs around him and we roll over so I am on top. I cup his face.   
“John….”   
I can’t believe I’m going to say this..  
“I love you, Doctor Watson.”   
My voice is deep and low. Barely above a whisper. His grip tightens on my back, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in.  
I’ve done something wrong!   
“Not good?”  
I wait for him to tell me exactly what I did wrong.  
“No, Sherlock.”  
Here it comes…  
“That was… exactly right.”  
“Right?” I’m… shocked.  
“Yes, mmhmm. Right. I love you, Sherlock.” His voice started out strong, but with I love you it had turned into a whisper.   
I feel like my heart has just skipped a beat, then raced to catch up.  
“Come here” I roll onto my back. I guide his head with my hand so he is directly over my heart. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. Emotion takes over… I feel like weeping.   
“Are you alright?” He looks up at me. His face has pure concern written all over it.  
“Yes, love.” I kiss his forehead.   
I hook my thumbs under the elastic of his pants, and slip them off, he then does the same to mine.  
“John, I’ve never done this before… With anyone, let alone a man. And knowledge only gets you so far..”  
He kisses me.  
“Well you know, I’m not…” He trails off.  
“Not gay?” I finish with a smirk. We both giggle a little.  
“John, I’m not quite ready for… fucking. As you put it so eloquently. Is that ok?”  
“Yeah, of course.”   
That smile… it is full of mischief.   
He gets up and kneels between my legs. He wraps his warm hands around my cock. I close my eyes and give in to the sensations. Then his mouth… Yes, mouth, wraps around my cock and his tongue starts darting around the head. His fingers running up and down my shaft. I let out a moan. This just encourages him. His tongue swirls around my cock.  
“God, John!”  
I dig my fingers into the bed and thrust my hips up and down in time with him. Our pace quickens.. Its then that I realize I’m more shouting than moaning.   
“John!” I shout his name… “John, I’m going to come if you keep that up!”  
Then he does something that sends me over the edge. His mouth moves to my balls, tongue forming little circles.  
“Oh, GOD!”  
His hands move faster. Soon I can’t contain it anymore.  
“John…” I utter. “I’m cumming.”  
My body feels like a newly lit match as the orgasm ripped through me. I lift my head up and look down as John places his mouth over my cock as I ejaculate.   
I let my head fall back into the pillow.  
“Doctor John Watson, where did you learn how to do that?”  
He just smiles as he lays down next to me.   
“Well, I know what I like, So I just went with that.”  
I kiss him and whisper, “Your turn.”  
I have no past experience to go on, but John said he did what he liked. I feel a nervous energy as I get between his legs. This was different than the shower. This was more personal. I’ve always been rubbish at personal… I can feel John watching me… I can’t look back at him.  
I hold myself up with my left hand and with my right take hold of his cock. I place my cock over his head, like he did for me. The taste of his precum as I run my tongue up and down his shaft and sucked on his balls was invigorating. I use my free hand to tease his balls. The noises this man made… The egged me on…   
John was practically shouting when he said “Jesus Christ, Sherlock! I’m cumming.” With that he pulls away from me, pushes me to a sitting position and shoots his load all over my chest. We both collapse on the bed, breathing hard. I reach over and grab a tissue from the nightstand and clean up a little.   
“That was… fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.”  
I curl up in John’s arms. Time seems to stand still.  
“John, can I treat you to dinner later?” He’d like that…   
“Uh, sure.”  
He seems surprised… I like surprising him!  
I kiss his chest. I feel so safe.


	6. Dinner and a movie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock promised to take John out to dinner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “John, can I treat you to dinner later?” He’d like that…   
> “Uh, sure.”  
> He seems surprised… I like surprising him!  
> I kiss his chest. I feel so safe.

Quite a while later we get up and get dressed for dinner.   
"Where are you taking me, Sherlock?"  
"To dinner." I wink at him as I put my coat on. I ruffle my hair back into place, flip my collar up and kiss him. I take him by the hand and lead him outside.   
"Taxi!" One pulls up and as we get I say, "Northumberland street."  
John gives me a quizzical look and I just give him a sly smile.   
I reach out and take his hand in mine. My fingers encircle his. I haven't felt this excited about any living thing since, well, Redbeard.   
As we reach our destination John starts to pay. I push his hand aside and pay the cabbie.  
"I'll have none of that tonight!"  
We get out and John smiles. "Angelo's?"  
I wink and we walk in hand in hand. We're seated at my, our, usual window seat. The waiter comes over, takes our order and says "I'll bring you a candle. It's more romantic." And walks off. John starts laughing.   
"What?" More laughter. "What?"  
Between giggles John says, "So. You got a boyfriend?"  
Seeing the humor I chuckle and say "Yes" with a wink.   
The waiter comes back with a candle and we both burst out laughing. Why had I not seen how happy this man made me.   
a date with Sherlock Holmes. You know people are going to talk?" The way he looks at me. One eyebrow raised. I could have him right here. On this table. I don't care who watched.   
"And your point?"  
" Mycroft will find out sooner or later."  
"Let him. He's only my brother."  
Our food arrives and we eat mostly in silence.   
"Dessert?" He says after we've finished.  
" No. I'm stuffed." I've eaten more today than I have in the last week.   
"Well, will you at least share with me?"   
I roll my eyes in mock annoyance. "Fine."  
We share a slice of cheese cake.   
"John. I feel ridiculous sharing dessert with you. I feel like a kid."  
He tilts his head to one side. "Mmm? And that's a bad thing?"  
"No! Not bad. Just, different."   
We finish our dessert, I pay and we head out. It was late March, yet surprisingly warm.   
"Shall we walk home?" I suggest.   
"Yeah, alright." He slips his hand into mind. I grin and bring his hand to my lips. He takes a deep breath in as I kiss his hand. We walk home slowly. It is getting dark and it feels like we have the whole of London to ourselves.   
About half way home I stop and turn to John. I can already feel heat rising to my face.   
"John… how..." I trail off and meet Johns gaze. He's holding back a smile. Obviously he know what I am trying to say.   
"You said you wanted me to… fuck… you. How... How do..."   
John can't contain his smile anymore. He pulls me closed. I can feel his breath on my next.   
"Go on…"   
Damn... He's going to make me say it.   
I start walking forward. I can't look at him. When he catches up to me he is grinning for ear to ear. If he weren't so damn cute...  
I'm glad that we are alone on the street...   
"John, you and I both know that the anus doesn't self lubricate... I don't see how..."  
I'm cut off by John's laughing.   
"I fail to see how that is funny!"  
"Oh Sherlock!" He is nearly bent over with laughter. "Do you really know nothing about sex?"  
" I understand sex. It is a natural act between people. But I fail to see how that know late will solve our problem. Or how this is all so funny."   
He clears his throat, apparently realizing I’m serious and know nothing of how we are supposed to take part in this act.  
Trying not to laugh again he says, “Well, you do know that they sell lube?”   
I open my mouth to ask again what was so funny but he stops me.  
“Sherlock, don’t worry about it. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”  
“That oughta be fun.” I say dryly.   
The rest of the walk is spent with him chuckling to himself. But still hand in hand… I could get used to this.

*Back at Baker Street*

John is in the kitchen pouring a whiskey. I’m pacing the living room composing on my violin.   
“Uh, Sherlock, do you want one?” motioning to the whiskey.  
Why not… “Sure.”   
John brings me a drink and his hand trails across my back as he goes to sit down on the couch. Even after he is sitting I can still feel his fingers on my back.   
I’m so lost in my music that I didn’t even realize John had been talking until I heard,  
“Sherlock, are you evening listening to me?”  
“Hm? Yeah. Yeah… sure.”  
“What really?” John seems surprised… What did I just agree to? “Well, come on then.” He pats the couch next to him. I place my violin down, pick up my drink and kick off my shoes. I step over, well on, the coffee table and sit plop myself onto the couch. Still unsure of what I’ve just agreed to.  
“What now?”  
“We pick a movie. Hardly difficult, Sherlock.”  
“Ooooh…” A movie… Well, it could have been worse.. I must start paying more attention. “Whatever, John. You pick.”  
“You sure?” He looks at me with those eyebrows… God those eyebrows..  
“Yes! Fine. Let’s watch a movie.”  
John picked some American sci fi movie called “Wrath of Khan.” I roll my eyes and settle in. What is it with the Americans and their sci fi? I place my head on John’s lap. His fingers find their way into my hair. I manage to sit still for a full half hour before I can’t take it anymore. I sit up and say “How can you watch this? This man’s acting” (dramatic pause to demonstrate my point.) “is horrid.”   
“You agreed. You let me pick. So shut up, and watch the movie.”  
“Fine.” I grumble as I grab my knees and bring them up to my chest.   
He lets me stay like that for a few minutes before sighing and saying. “Sherlock, stop your pouting. He scoots over and leans against me. I stop pouting and sit normal. This rewards me with John putting his head on my lap. Interesting. I can work with this.   
I run my hands lightly up and down his side. He lets out a soft sigh. I’m doing something right. Next time my fingers trail all the way up to his neck and back. He closes his eyes and I can see him bite his lower lip.  
“How is the movie?”  
“Yeah? Fine. Good.” He looks up at me and smiles. I take both of his hands in mine and stretch them above his head, pinning them down with one hand. The other hand softly trails down his chest. He closes his eyes. Still biting his lower lip.   
“John. Look at me.” My voice is firm. “Now.”  
He looks me in the eyes and I hold his gaze. My fingers trail up his chest, up over his chin, and trace his mouth. His lip quivers.   
“Lift your head a little bit.”  
I slip out from under him and kneel on the floor facing the couch. I keep his arms pinned above his head. I slip my other hand under his shirt and run my hand across his chest. I lean closer and kiss him hungrily. My mouth smashes into his. The moans coming from our living room would have shamed even good old Mrs. Hudson.   
Somehow we end up on the floor, rolling around, devouring each other's mouths. Our hands roaming all over each other’s bodies. When our lips hurt from kissing so hard, John puts his head on my shoulder and whispers. “I love you, now watch the bloody movie.”  
Next think I know the credits are rolling and John is shaking me gently telling me to “Wake up.”  
“Sherlock, come to bed.”  
“John, I can’t.” I roll over to my stomach. “Just leave me here.”  
“Nope. come to bed. Up we go.” He half drags me to a sitting position. I open one eye and look at him.  
“Let’s go!”   
I get up and he drags me to the bedroom. I stand half asleep at the edge of the bed.  
“Oh… Sherlock. Don’t be such a baby. Get your clothes off and come to bed.”  
“I… fine…” I grumble. I hate being woken up. I must not have moved because John sighed and walked up behind me. He wraps his arms around me and starts unbuttoning my shirt. He slides his hands up over my shoulders, bringing the shirt with them. He then slips my trousers off and pulls me into bed.   
I flop over onto my stomach and just before I pass out. I say, “I love you too, John.”   
“I know…”  
We fall asleep with his head on the back of my shoulder, one arm wrapped around my waist.


	7. The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sits up, and pulls me around his waist. My legs over his, wrapping around his back. He kisses me..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from John's POV.

Chapter 7

Sherlock slept through the night, surprising. How often had I waken to the sounds of him wandering the flat, doing odd experiments at all hours?

We had shifted during the night. His head was now on my chest, hair partly in my face. He smells like rain. I felt so content. Never in my life had I imagined that I would fall in love with a man. But never in my life have I ever felt this much love for one person. My hand instinctively moves to his curls. I don’t want to wake him, so I just rest my hand in his hair. 

Light is starting to peek through the cracks around the curtains. I take a look at my watch, 06:00, still early. I close my eyes and drift back to sleep. I wake a few hours later to the most fantastic sensation. Sherlock, still half asleep, has his long slender fingers wrapped around my erection. His thumb is circling the head of my cock. My hand is still in his hair, I hold him tight.

“Morning.” He murmurs, voice deep, still heavy from sleep.  
“Morning, Sherlock.” 

I kiss his forehead and he scoots closer, pressing his erection into my side. I’ve always loved morning sex. You don’t think about it. You just do what comes naturally. 

“Sherlock, do you have any lotion?”

He opens the top draw of the nightstand and grabs a bottle of massage oil and grins at me sheepishly. His face changes suddenly. He leans in and kisses me. There is a hunger in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Its deeper than that looks he gets when he’s solving a case. 

Sherlock sits up, and pulls me around his waist. My legs over his, wrapping around his back. He kisses me.. Slow and sensual. Rubbing the oil all over me, his hands going up and down my body… His legs cross, and form a sort of lap for me to sit on. Mr arse is raised, right over his rod. He gets more oil and applies it to my hole and his cock. He guides my hips until my hole is placed on his cock. He looks at me and with such a soft voice says, “At your pace, John.” He kisses me again. And I slowly lower myself onto his cock. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he is fully inside me. I’m surprised at the lack of pain. 

He synchronizes his breathing with mine, slow and deep. I tense and relax my PC muscles over and over again, adjusting to the feeling of his cock inside me. He kisses my neck and lets out a soft moan. Our arms wrapped around each other, as if we can’t bear to have an inch of space between us. 

I start with slow, gentle pelvic movements, rocking back and forth. I place my forehead on his and close my eyes and rock faster. Soon his hips are moving in rhythm with mine, thrusting up as I rock in. Our energy increases and he kisses me… So passionately that I felt I couldn’t contain myself anymore. And as if he could sense it, Sherlock reaches a hand between us and strokes my cock. I gasp and let out a low moan. 

“Sherlock, cum with me… I can’t hold it any longer.”  
“As you wish, my love.” And he kisses me. But this time his tongue finds its way into my mouth. I kiss him back hungrily and we both climax together.  
We sit like that, panting and holding each other. I can feel his cum dripping down my leg. Eventually we fall back to bed, and I curl up on his shoulder. 

“Where did you learn to do that, Sherlock?” I’m genuinely surprised. Sherlock, while understanding situations, doesn’t always get the personal stuff.

He grins and just says, “I might have done some research yesterday.” 

“God, I love you so much.” I could have this man, again, right now. 

“Promise you won't get bored of me, John?”  
“Bored of you?! How could that ever happen? You’re like a kitten! I can’t keep track of you half the time.”  
“I can’t bear the thought of being apart from you. John, I can’t lose you. Ever.”  
“I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock. Well, maybe out for food. You made me hungry.”  
“I’ll come with you… apparently I’m hungry again.”  
I look at him, surprised. “Really, you’re going to eat two days in a row? Domestic bliss must suit you.”

He playfully hits me as he gets up and walks off towards the bathroom. His pale ass glistening with sweat. I can’t help and watch him walk out of my sight.  
We stop for breakfast at a small cafe down the street. That’s the nice thing about central London, don’t have to go far for anything. I watch in awe as Sherlock devours his breakfast. 

“Seems we might have fixed each other's eating habits, eh?”  
He looks at me, mid bite and puts the fork back on his plate.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, you know… When we first met.. I had PTSD, hardly ate at all. In fact, the day I met you, all I had was an apple. Then we start chasing a cabbie and you practically forced me to eat!”  
“Can’t have you roaming London half starved! People will think I abuse you.” He winks and picks his fork back up. “Oh, I don’t have an eating disorder… I just don’t eat during a case.”  
“Right because that makes perfect sense.” I throw a piece of my toast at him.  
“Now, now, John Watson. Don’t start something you cannot win. Just because we are in public now doesn’t mean I won't remember this later. Oh… John? Can we not tell Mycroft right away? It’s only a matter of time before he finds out. But I want you to myself. For as long as possible.”  
“No snogging in public. Got it.”

Back in the flat I sit down to finish my blog. I need to get this posted before the next case. God knows that would get confusing. Sherlock is in the kitchen, doing God knows what. It smells horrible, so I’m afraid to ask. I wish he would play the violin. I find it easier to write when he’s playing. My fingers are getting too cold to type, so I get up and add wood to the fire. Sherlock notices, and rushes to my side. 

“No, John. I’ll do that. Go sit!”  
“Sherlock, it’s fine.”  
“No, I want to take care of you. Go, sit, finish your blog. Want me to play my violin for you? You write faster when I play.”

I don’t argue. I go back and sit in my chair. I watch Sherlock bend over to stoke the fire. That ass… I clear my throat and look away before he notices, if he hasn’t already. He spins around on his heel, takes one fast step to the side of my chair and plants a kiss on my head before spinning back around. He picks up his violin and starts playing a lively tune. I’m starting to realize that his music portrays his mood, even if he doesn’t realize it. The words start flowing through my mind, and soon my blog is finished. 

I shut my laptop and Sherlock spins to look at me. He smiles. Such a wide smile that it makes his eyes wrinkle. I get up and walk over to the couch. 

"Care to join me, Mr. Holmes?" I pat the cushion next to me. He sits with his back against the arm of the couch and his feet stretched out. I swing around and do the same. Our legs getting entangled on the couch. 

"So. I'm your secret boyfriend then?" I ask him raising an eyebrow.  
"Not secret, just... Yeah, ok. Secret. I'm sorry, John. I don't want this spoiled by Mycroft."  
"What make you so sure he'll spoil it?"  
"Oh, he'll go on about how caring isn't an advantage. Rather a disadvantage. It makes you a pawn to be used against me. And I would like to keep you safe from that. For as long as possible."  
"I'll have to tell Sarah. I'm supposed to see her tomorrow. I haven't seen her since the other night, God knows I need to apologize for that!"  
"Fine. Tell Sarah. But she'd better not tell Mycroft."  
"Sherlock, I don't even think Sarah knows that Mycroft even exists. So if I'm your secret boyfriend. Does that mean I can't kiss you or hold your hand outside the flat? Because that will be awfully dull."  
"Don't underestimate Mycroft, John. He'll know in a few days time. Until then, we should just stay indoors and spend all our time in bed."  
"Yeah sure, Sherlock."I can't tell if he's joking with that last bit. But either way that sounds good to me.  
“I mean it, John. I want you all to myself. Give me this, please. I don’t ask for much.”  
God, that smile… I’d give him the world if he asked it of me.  
“Wait! Don’t ask for much? Haven’t you called me from across London so I could send a text for you? To a murderer?” I give his foot a smack.  
He just looks at me and stone faced says, “Problem?”  
I shake my head and laughingly say, “You, are an asshole. But yeah, fine. I won’t tell anyone. But I will not keep my hands off of you when we are in the flat, regardless of who is here. Take it or leave it.”  
“Sherlock…” I trail off  
“What’s wrong, John!” He sits up straight, concern filling his voice.  
“Nothing is wrong.” Relief washes over his face and he slumps back up against the couch, taking my feet in his hands.  
“I’m just confused. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, let alone a man. Sherlock, I am thoroughly infatuated with you. I have been from the moment we met. The way you deduced me in seconds, I can’t get that image out of my head.”  
“John… I was trying to impress you that day.”  
“Oh, stop. You are always trying to impress everyone.”  
“I know… But I really was. I saw you walk in, you looked so alone. And John, I was so alone…” Tears start welling up in his eyes.  
I pull my legs back and crawl over to him, both of us laying down on the couch, Sherlock against the back of the couch with his arms around me.  
“We’re not alone now, Mate.” I whisper...


	8. The Doctor Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This must be a, well, shocking sight..." John starts.  
> "Oh no, dear. I was just shocked to find Sherlock asleep. By the sounds you two made last night, why would this shock me?! Might do you some good, Sherlock."  
> I wrap my arms tighter around him and murmur my agreement. Then it hits me. The sounds? Oh god...

Sherlock

We wake up to a noise. I open my eyes and find Mrs. Hudson in the doorway with an incredibly shocked look on her face. Thank god we are clothed.  
"Eh, I can explain" stutters John.  
"No need. We've got all sorts around here. I just can't believe he was sleeping." She shifts the shopping bags in her hands and points to me. She had gone shopping! God bless Mrs. Hudson.  
"This must be a, well, shocking sight..." John starts.  
"Oh no, dear. I was just shocked to find Sherlock asleep. By the sounds you two made last night, why would this shock me?! Might do you some good, Sherlock."  
I wrap my arms tighter around him and murmur my agreement. Then it hits me. The sounds? Oh god...  
"Mrs. Hudson..." I start. Trying to think of an appropriate apology.  
"Don't worry dear. Reminds me of when my husband was alive. Oh the racket we made."  
She smiles as she goes into the kitchen with her shopping bags. A few moments later she starts putting around. I should warn her...  
"Sherlock!"  
I smile at the noise she makes when she opens the fridge. She's found my severed hand.  
"Experiment!" Is all I say. 

As she walks back down the stairs she calls out, "You won't be needed that second bedroom now, will you."  
I kiss the back of John's head.  
"I certainly hope not. I've never slept so well in my life."

I look at the clock. It's mid afternoon. Already.  
“You let me sleep all day, John?”  
“Of course. God know’s when you’ll get your next case. You don’t eat or sleep during cases, figured I’d let you catch up.” John chuckles.

The fire had gone out and the flat was getting chilly. It was then that I noticed John was shivering.  
I gingerly get off the couch, trying my best not to squish John. I go over and add wood to the fire. After a few moments the fire is roaring. I stand up and stretch, suddenly very full of energy.  
"John! Get up"  
He looks at me through half opened eyes.  
"Why? You said we were staying in. Why do I have to get up?" He closes his eyes and slumps back on the couch.  
I dart over to the couch, grab his hands, and pull him up.

"Really Sherlock!" He starts to protest.  
"Now, Doctor Watson! You don't even know what I have in store for you! So quit your complaining."  
I push our arm chairs to the sides of the room and drag John over to the center of the room by his shoulders.  
John just looks at me with incredulity. He must think I'm nutters. But then again who doesn't?  
I jump over to the computer, pull up iTunes and play "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra  
I spin around, take John in my arms, and lead him into a waltz. For the next three minutes we both dance, as if on cloud nine. We make fools out of ourselves, we bump into furniture, forget who's leading whom, and we laugh. But I have never felt so alive.  
The song ends and we both stand still in the middle of the room, I pull him into my arms. He wraps his strong arms around my back. One hand on my neck, one on the small of my back, his head nestled into my chest.  
"I'm starting to understand what people see in relationships." I say, barely above a whisper.  
John answers by wrapping his arms around me tighter.  
We start swaying back and forth and I hum in rhythm with our movements. 

We were so lost in each other that we didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs, nor see the figure standing in the door frame. However, we did hear the gravely laugh.  
I look up, startled and annoyed at myself for not having my wits about me. How could Lestrade, of all people, walk into my flat without my knowledge. 

"It's about time you two were honest with yourselves."  
"Did all of England know I had the hots for this man?" John jokingly half shouts.  
"Yeah, just about. Mycroft bet me you two were too dumb to realize it. I told him he was daft and that it was only a matter of time. Looks like I win this time."  
"Mycroft?" I let go of John and ball my fists.  
"What business does he have making bets on my... relationships?"  
Then it hits me. I nearly shout.  
"This time? What do you mean THIS time?! What are you doing with my brother?  
"We're friends, if you must know."  
"Friends? My brother doesn't have friends!"  
John interrupts before I can carry on rambling.  
"Greg, come in. Tea?"  
"Please, thank you, John."  
I look at him. "Greg?"  
"Yes, Sherlock. How many times must we tell you. That is his name. Yeah?"  
I stomp over to my armchair and dramatically flop myself into it.  
"Yes, do come in. To what do we owe the pleasure." I say with no small amount of sarcasm. I wave my arms dramatically. 

He comes in, and sits in John's chair, which is now against the wall. The nerve! That's John's chair!  
"Well, remember that case the other day? Remember how John got kidnapped? Well, I need statements."  
John comes over with 3 cups of tea. He hands 'Greg' his tea and comes over and sits on the arm of my chair. He puts an arm around me. His look of contentment is enough to make me stop and forget my annoyance.  
"I tried calling, but your mobile just rang out. So, if I could just pull you two off each other, I'll take those statements now."  
John holds me tighter and kisses the top of my head.  
"Sorry, Greg. Sherlock and I have an agreement. As long as we're in the flat, I don't have to keep my hands off of him. I'm sure you understand." His tone.. Was... Slightly teasing? I don't understand why. Lestrade's wife had left, again. I made a mental note to ask John about this later.  
Greg shifts uncomfortably in his chair and just nods.  
"Sherlock, we should probably just give the poor man our statements now and get it over with. Because there is no way in hell that I am letting you out of this flat any time soon."  
He slips his hand down my back and gives my ass a squeeze. I need to get Lestrade out of this flat. Now. John is being irresistible, the little twit.  
"Yes, yes." I wave an arm above my head. 

Mrs. Hudson comes up with a tray of snacks. I want to shout at her to go away, that Lestrade will not be staying. John seems to know this, so he gives my ass one more squeeze before getting up and taking the tray from her. She smiles and mutters something that sounds very much like, "So adorable. It's about time." And heads back downstairs. I must remember to put up a "Keep out, Mrs. Hudson" sign. I don't want her disturbing us tonight. I have plans.  
Anybody care for anything a bit stronger than tea? John goes into the kitchen and pours himself a whiskey.  
"Can't, on duty and all." Lestrade says somewhat reluctantly.  
"I'll take one. Please."  
John looks up at the word "please." He looks surprised. Happy. I smile at him. He brings over our drinks and sits down on the arm of my chair again. Now I'm secretly glad Lestrade took his chair. I decided to wrap my arm around him this time. He lets out a sigh and leans into me and snuck his hand around my back.  
"Shall we get down to business?"  
"Mmm. Yeah." He puts his teacup down and takes my statement first. It was dull, boring. I hated this part.  
He gets to John.  
John takes a long sip of his whiskey and starts describing how he answered the door, thinking it was their food. How he and Sarah were roughly tied up and thrown into a vehicle. His grip on my back tightened, and my heart sank, as he mentioned how he was dragged out of the vehicle, head smacking against the floor. How he was forced to watch as Sarah was gagged and tied to a chair. How he was questioned. How his kidnappers didn't believe he wasn't Sherlock Holmes. His description of his kidnappers was very detailed. I often forget that he is a highly trained army doctor.  
He grins when he recalls my "heroic entrance." I want to kiss him, and tell him I was so sorry for not being there. So sorry, it was my fault. They thought he was me. I pull him closer, willing my strength to pass on to him.  
He finishes with a sigh. "Is that enough, Greg? I'd quite like to forget about the whole experience."  
"Yeah, I've got more than enough here. Thanks, guys." He stands up, and so does John.  
John reaches over and shakes his hand.  
A stab of jealousy hits me. That's my hand.  
Greg looks at me for a second, nods his head and says "Afternoon." As he turns to leave.  
It's then that I realize iTunes is still playing. I'm in vacation mode, but still today has been an off day. If john and I are to be a 'thing' I must learn to enjoy it and not be distracted. 

John shuts the door after Lestrade, turns and leans up against the door. He looks drained.  
I rush over to him, nearly spilling my -mostly untouched- whiskey in the process.  
I press my body into his and rest my forehead on his. I reach around him and flick the lock on the door. No more interruptions.  
He slides his hands around me and loops his fingers into my back pockets.  
We stay like that for a while. Just enjoying the closeness  
"I love you Doctor John Watson" I whisper it directly in his ear. Causing shivers to run down his neck. This gives me an idea. I move my mouth within an inch of his ear and breath out slowly. His whole body erupts in shivers. I can feel his heartbeat quicken. I take his earlobe in my mouth and softly suck on it. The most beautiful moan escaped from his lips. I will never forget that noise. It was low, almost like a growl, lasted for a good 8 seconds. Best of all, it was my name.  
There is still music playing. And we were interrupted earlier. I don't want this to be over quickly. I take him by the hands and pull him into the center of the room again. We dance. He fights for the lead every chance he gets. I won't give in. Eventually we settle into a slow dance. Holding onto each other tightly. His head on my shoulder, mine on the top of his head. I broke the silence.  
"John. I'm sorry for everything you have gone through at my expense. I never meant for you to get hurt. I'm sorry. So, so sorry." I try to blink the tears away before he can see, but too late.  
He cups my hand in both of his and kisses me. There is no need for words. That kiss said it all, it said I love you, there is nothing that needs forgiving, and of course, shut up.  
This man. That smells like the ever changing wind. Is the one unchanging thing in my life. Funny. 

It's getting close to dinner time. And before John can complain about being hungry I decided to do something about it. I stop dancing and ask him, "Takeaway?”  
We eat dinner then he retires to the couch. John picks up the newspaper and flicks through it. He does this either when he is annoyed or trying to avoid something. I let him sit for a while. But when I notice him re-reading the same article I decide butt in. 

"What's on your mind, John?"  
"Nothing. Nothing is on my mind. Absolutely nothing." He gives the paper a shake as he tries to flatten it out. I take the paper out of his hands and make him look at me.  
“John, don’t insult me! What is wrong.”  
“Sherlock!”  
I lean down and kiss him and as I pull away I whisper, “Please, John…”

“Its just… If Lestrade was ok with, us. When can we go public. Sherlock, I don’t want to hide. I like to go out on dates, I like to leave the flat.” He adds quickly. “This, this is fantastic though. The doctor ordered a few days off.” 

I sigh and sit on the couch next to him.  
“John, just give me a few days… That’s all I ask. I need time to adjust. Today, Lestrade walked right into our flat without me even knowing! I can’t be distracted just because I have you…” I add quietly “And I don’t want to ignore you… Please give me time…”  
He gives me a look that screams love and affection. Somehow in there I said the right thing. I’ll have to figure out what that is so I can do it again. This is all so tedious.

“John… I have a question for you. And I don’t know how to put this delicately.”  
“You? Delicate?” John laughs.  
I ignore him and go on.  
“John, our relationship… I’ve already tried it, a bit… But when it comes to… stuff” I motion to the bedroom, “I want to be in control. I don’t like not being in control.”  
“Just in the bedroom, eh?” John tries not to laugh.  
“John, this isn’t funny…” I pout.  
“Sherlock, if you insist on pouting, know that it only makes me want to kiss those perfect fucking lips even more.”  
“And John…” I’m actually starting to feel embarrassed. “Will you please call me Mr. Holmes while we are engaging in sexual activity.” I quickly look away. I don’t want to see his reaction.  
He moves a hand onto my thigh and in a deep, very sexy, growl says, “Of course… Mr. Holmes.”  
His reaction on me is instant. The sound of his voice, the hand on my thigh, the “Mr. Holmes”. Who’s controlling who here? I’m the smart one… So why is he playing me like a fiddle? 

I get up and go to my room. A few minutes later I come out with a few items. Handcuffs, my riding crop, one of my ties, tape, and a lovely black leather collar… I had acquired the collar some time ago during a case. I had kept it… well, just in case. I walk right up to John, do not look him in the eyes when I say “Kneel!” I make my voice very deep and enunciate the word, drawing out the “lll” sound.  
John just sits there and looks at me. He sits for a moment too long. I grab him by the ear and encourage him off the couch and into a kneeling position on the floor.  
“I want that shirt off, now.” I look him in the eyes, giving him a slightly questioning look… making sure this is ok. He winks back at me as he starts to take his shirt off.  
“John, if this goes too far, or you ever need me to stop, please just say Vatican Cameos. I will stop whatever I am doing and make sure you are ok. If you are gagged, shake your head 4 times. Nod if you understand.”  
He nods as his shirt falls to the floor. Good. I squat down in front of him and softly kiss his lips.  
“I hope you know what you've gotten yourself in for.” I slip the collar around his neck and I have to step back and admire him. The way he holds his head up high, chin jutting out ever so slightly.  
“My dear doctor, how handsome you are.” I say, leaning in close. I run my finger across his cheekbone, down to the tip of his chin and stand back up.  
With a few flicks of my tongue on his ear I could have him begging for me in moments. But I want to savor this.  
I walk behind him and take his left hand with a *click* the cuff goes on.  
"Other hand please." He obeys.  
*click*  
I kiss in between his shoulder blades. A soft moan escapes his lips. I kiss him again, this time letting my teeth scrape across his skin.  
"On your feet, soldier."  
I circle him, all the while maintaining touch. He stays still, back straight as a board. I would have loved to see him in the military. I stop circling and stand in front of him. I drop to my knees and kiss right under his belly button. I kiss all over his abdomen biting every so often.  
Despite his rigid back and tightly pressed lips, the bulge in his pants is proof enough that he is enjoying himself. I trace a finger down the outline on his dick I'm rewarded with a deep throaty moan.  
I undo the button on his pants and slowly undo the zipper. Kissing lower and lower as the material of his pants moves. I push his pants to the floor and start working on his boxers. As I lower his boxers I kiss the exposed skin. I brush my face against his dick, but don't touch it with my lips. He starts to move his hips, trying to get some relief.  
I get up and tear off a piece of tape.  
"I suggest you don't ever grow facial hair. This would hurt." I wink and place the tape over his mouth. Then I take my tie and make a makeshift blindfold out of it. I turn him around so he is facing the couch.  
"Bend over, face on the couch."  
Good lord. John is naked, blindfolded, hands cuffed behind his back, and his arse in the air.  
I take my riding crop and trail it over his arse so he knows it's there.  
"John, if you are not ok with this, please shake your head." No movement, so I give his arse a test smack. No response. I try it a little harder.  
*smack!*  
"Mmmm"  
*smack, smack smack*  
His arse twitches ever so slightly.  
I give his arse a dozen more smacks before welts started showing up... So fucking gorgeous.  
I press my body against his and lean over him. My face is half an inch from his face.  
"Stand up."  
I stand up, collect all my toys and grab the ring on his collar.  
"Come on." I grab the ring on his collar and pull him towards the bedroom. He steps out of his pants and follows me.  
I push him face forward onto the bed. He falls with a soft *uummppff.* I take my clothes off and toss them aside. I won't be needing them for the rest of the night.  
"Turn around so your head is on the pillows."  
As soon as he is where I want him I lean down and unlock the cuffs. His arms fall to the side. I grab the massage oil from my nightstand and straddle his legs. I smear some oil all over his back and start massaging his shoulders. I can feel every muscle in his body relax as my fingers work their magic. His eyes are closed he's letting out soft grunts through the tape. His back is so full of knots. I carefully work out every one of them. I work my way down his whole back, stopping at his glutes.  
"Turn over please."  
I take the rope and tie legs to my bed posts. I take the tape off and ask,  
"John, would you like to fuck me tonight?"  
"Oh yes please. Sh.. Mr. Holmes."  
I slide over in between his legs and take his dick in my mouth. It's salty from sweat and precum. I'm still unsure of what to do with his dick so I swirl my tongue around his head. This causes him to tense and gasp. I look up quickly.  
"Not good?"  
"Damnit... Don't stop. Please Mr. Holmes."  
I go back to what I was doing, apparently this feels good. I store that information away.  
I don't want the fun to end yet, so I give his dick one last flick with my tongue and plant a kiss on the very tip. I put a generous amount of oil on his dick and wipe some on my hole. I scoot up so my legs are around his waist.  
"Slowly, please, John."  
He puts a hand on my hips and guide his dick with the other.  
"Just relax." The compassion in his voice is so strong I lean down and kiss him.  
I tense a little as he sticks himself inside.  
"Kiss me, Mr. Holmes. It'll make it easier."  
I kiss him, and I immediately relax. He slowly pushes in more until he's all the way in. It feels... Amazing. His hot, throbbing dick feels amazing. He gives a little thrust, testing to see how much I can take.  
"John, fuck me! I'm not going to break!"  
He thrusts in and out slowly at first, I rock back and forth to match his movements. Pretty soon we fill the room with grunts, wet sloppy kisses, and the sound of John fucking me. I sit up a little, trying to get his dick just a little deeper. He surprises me by taking my dick in his hands and giving me the best hand job as he fucks my arse. His breaths start coming short and hard, deep throaty grunts with each breath. I lean forward far enough to grab onto the headrest. I bounce up and down on his cock.  
"John, I'm not used to these sensations. I'm. Not going to be able to hold out much longer. But I want to cum with you. Cum for me, please my pet!"  
"Almost there, love." He grunts as he thrusts into me harder and faster.  
"Now!" He growls  
I can feel his dick throbbing as he cums inside me. At the same time I shoot my load all over his chest and accidently getting some on his face.  
The look of surprise on his face made me laugh out loud as I collapse on top of him.  
"That was fantastic. Utterly fantastic, John."  
"Christ, Sherlock, I love you. Now if you would untie me, I think we both need a shower."  
I untried him but grab the cuffs and snap them around one of his wrists. With the other cuff I drag him into the bathroom. I attach the other cuff to the curtain rod on the shower.  
"In you go, love." As I turn the water on.  
Because of where John is standing there is a small but steady stream of water pouring onto the floor.  
"Sherlock you'll get the floor soaked!"  
"Just don't tell Mrs. Hudson!" I wink.  
I climb in and press my body into his.  
I take the bar of soap and run it around in my hands until I have a nice lather going.  
I start at his neck and slowly work my way down. When my hands run down his arms I'm amazed at his muscles.  
I trace his scar on his shoulder and move down his chest.  
I stop when I get to his waist and squeeze around him. I lather up more soap and wash his back.  
I squat down and run my hands along his arse and backs of his legs. Again amazed at his muscles.  
"John, do you work out?"  
"If you call chasing you around half of London on an almost daily biases, then yes."  
"Fair enough." I chuckle.  
I squeeze around him again and start washing him from the feet up. I run my hands along the insides of his thighs. I wash around his dick, he jumps and tries to push me away with his free hand.  
"Still sensitive are we?" I wink up at him.  
"Just a bit, yeah. I'm starting to think that you are, in fact, trying to kill me."  
"Never." I plant a kiss on the tip of his dick just before running soap over it. I stand up and let him rinse off. Watching the water pour over his body.  
He watches me wash myself as he shampoos his hair. His eyes watch my hands as the move across my body. He wasn’t paying enough attention to what he was doing and he cursed as some got in his eyes. 

As we get out I realize that I left the key for the handcuffs in our room.  
“Stay here.” I say as I head into the bathroom. Not even bothering to get a towel.  
“Sherlock! You’ll get the floors all wet!” John shouts after me.  
“Say that a little louder, and Mrs. Hudson will come clean up!”  
I can hear him muttering something and I just grin. I think I like “Helpless John.”  
I stand in the door frame and admire his naked, wet body. Then I take my hand (which is holding my mobile) from the other side of the wall. *Snap!* I grin and lock the phone. I now have a picture of Doctor Watson, naked, cuffed to my shower.  
The look he gives me is priceless. It simply says, “I’m going to kill you when you let me out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Agnes, Amy, Ashley.... And everyone who has said nice things about this! I'm having a blast writing it! 
> 
> I love my girls so much. They are wonderful people!!!!


	9. S.O.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I’m sorry if this is… vague… I don’t want to get into retelling the episodes. But I see this as a key point in John and Sherlock’s relationship. There is that split second, in the swimming pool where Sherlock think that JOHN is Moriarty. John has a pained look, like he’s hurt that Sherlock would even believe that. Then there is panic when he realized that John is in fact a hostage. But I digress… There really isn't time in this case for fluff, or smut. There is just puzzle solving.

Well. That’s that. Sherlock and I are now acting like an old married couple. Had our first spat… He handcuffed me to the fucking shower then took a picture of me! Well, we didn’t really fight… I just got annoyed, threw a pillow at him and pretended I couldn’t hear him when he was begging to kiss me. Who’s in control now? 

A few days go by and he gets a murder case in Belarus. “Open and shut.” He said. He solved it in less than 24 hours. Why he even bothered to fly out is beyond me. If he ever made a bloody phone call he could have saved himself time and money.

As I put my key into the front door of 221B Baker ST. I heard gunshots.I wasn’t expecting him home this soon. Normal people would assume the worst… But I’m not normal. I had left my gun upstairs, and there was a light on. Sherlock. I need to get a cable lock for my gun.. Not like it would do any good.

I’m annoyed. He just shot the bloody wall. He insulted my blog. And there was a bloody severed head in the fridge. I do what I do best when I’m annoyed… I go for a walk. I refuse to let my temper get the best of me in front of him. I go to leave, only then did Sherlock look up from his sulking. 

“Where are you going?”  
“Out.”

I call Sarah and ask if she’d like a drink. I mean nothing romantic of it. She needs to be told about Sherlock and I anyways.

Well, one drink leads to another. Pretty soon I’m in no state to go home. Sarah and I are laughing and having a good time. I forgot that this is what normal conversation was like. God, I have to tell Sarah… With two bottles of wine down, we’re both feeling pretty tipsy and pretty drowsy.  
“John, do you want the lilo or the sofa?”  
Never her bed… Not that I would have slept with her tonight. I’m with Sherlock now.  
“The sofa will be fine, thanks. But, uh, Sarah… There’s something I’ve gotta say.”  
She looks at me. Obviously not expecting what I have to say.  
“Sarah, what I am about to say must not be repeated. To anyone. It will be made known soon. But for now.. please respect my wish.” I take a deep breath in.  
“I’m in love with Sherlock.” It felt so good to say it out loud.  
“Yeah, I know.” She smiles weakly at me.  
Well, that explains why she never offered me to share a bed with her.  
“Christ. Apparently everyone knew before I did.”  
“Yeah, well… I’m going to bed John. I had a lovely evening, but I’ve gotta go to the surgery tomorrow.”  
I settle in on the sofa. Somewhat regretting my decision to stay here. I should at least let Sherlock know I’m alright. I go to text him, but my phone was dead. Sarah’s tablet is on the table next to the sofa, I could email him. Nope.. it’s locked. Oh well, he’ll survive the night without his blogger.  
I fall asleep to feelings of guilt for leaving Sherlock. I’ll make it up to him… Maybe take him away on holiday. My last thought before I drift off is him, on a sunny beach in just his swimming trunks… No coat to be seen… Now there’s a sight.  
I wake around 8:30 up to the sound of the Sarah’s alarm. For a second I forget that I’m not home and that it isn’t Sherlock showering. God. Sherlock… He’s going to be a nightmare to deal with today. 

I flick on the telly and watch some news. I didn’t want to be rude and leave while Sarah was in the bathroom. The news caster mentions something about “Lost Vermeer.” Boring. Dull. I sound like Sherlock. The words “Baker Street Explosion.” Catch my ears and make my heart race. I hardly remember to grab my phone and coat before dashing out the door with a, “Sarah, I’ve got to go!”

Why can’t this taxi go any faster?

Why did I forget to charge my phone?

Why hasn’t Mycroft picked me up? Heaven knows he knew where I was.

Why didn’t Sherlock text Sarah?

Why the BLOODY HELL did I let Sherlock stay alone in the flat? 

The cabbie pulls up as close to 221B as he can and I throw money at him, I don’t care if I overpaid him. A quick glance tells me the explosion was across the street. Not our flat.. 

Good.

Still, I’m not even half way up the stairs and call out, “Sherlock!” Panic obvious in my voice. 

“John.” His tone means company. It means Mycroft. Well that’s why he didn’t pick me up. I attempt to not go into protective boyfriend mode. That can wait.  
“I saw it on the telly. Are you ok?”  
“Me, what? Oh fine, gas leak, apparently.”  
The flat is a mess, glass everywhere. The two front windows obviously were affected by the blast.

Mycroft is attempting to get Sherlock to take a case. Sherlock, in true Sherlock style, declined. Apparently all he needed was a good old fashioned explosion to cure his boredom. 

“How’s Sarah, John? How was the Lilo?” Sherlock seems annoyed. Great.  
“Sofa, Sherlock, it was the sofa.” Gez, thanks Mycroft.

“Sherlock’s business seems to be booming since you and he became… pals.” The tone in Mycroft’s voice… Jesus Christ! He knows.  
“What’s he like to live with? Hellish, I’d imagine.”  
“I’m never bored.” I said too much…  
“Good. That’s good, isn't’ it?”  
That sly smile…. Wait! Is that a question? Sherlock doesn’t even try to help… he’s just sitting there, plucking away harmonics on his violin. Sometimes I hate the Holmes brothers!

Mycroft gets up, attempts to hand a case file to Sherlock. Of course I end up with it. He explains the case briefly to us. Why Sherlock doesn’t want this case is beyond me!

Sherlock plays a rather annoying tune on his violin as Mycroft leaves…. His mood is fucking adorable… I want to smack him and tell him to change his attitude or no more kissing. But before I can his mobile rings. Lestrade perhaps? By the gleam in his eye I’m right, and there must be a case. Sherlock, of course doesn’t refuse a case from Lestrade. He must like feeling above the police. 

He gets up, grabs his coat and starts to leave.

“Lestrade. Coming?”

“If you want me too.” Not sure I want too.. His mood might cause Lestrade to have another murder to investigate.

“Of course. I’d be lost without my blogger.” Ok, fine… he is actually adorable.

Down at the station we’re told that the explosion was meant to look like a gas leak… Lestrade hands Sherlock an envelope. In it is a phone. Made to look like the phone from “A Study In Pink.” Here we go again. Coat collars up, ladies and gents, Sherlock is on the prowl.

The clues lead us back home. Down in 221C we find a pair of trainers. A puzzle. I hate puzzles. Yet I’m dating sherlock. The phone indicates that there are 5 puzzles. Sherlock almost seems giddy. 

Everything after that is a bit of a blur. The next three days are filled with hostages, bombs, puzzles, and Sherlock. We hardly have time to steal kisses, even in our own flat. We have deduced that this is a clever scheme thought up by none other than Moriarty. 

Day three and so far 4 puzzles solved. One casualty… But not because of something Sherlock did. Still, a sense of dread hangs over us. Sherlock won't even let me cuddle. I knew this would happen. I knew that during a case things wouldn’t be all romantic. But still, conversation would be nice. 

So on the evening of the 1st of April, when Sarah called, asking if I wanted to have drinks, I jumped at the chance. Sherlock was watching crap telly, and I’m assuming didn’t even notice I had left the flat. 

So when I hailed a taxi and the taxi driver pulled a gun on me, I feared the worst. Even if Sarah did call Sherlock, he would just ignore his phone.  
As soon as I’m in the cab I’m drugged, and I’m taken to a gym of sorts… A pool.Sherlock voice saying “Carl Powers” rang through my head. My kidnapper is smart. I never see his face. His voice is oddly familiar though.  
I notice that I’m wearing a bomb… 

Shit. I’m the mouth of the 5th puzzle. I thank God for my army training. It is the only thing that keeps me from going into a full blown panic. 

The main door to the pool opens… SHIT! I hear Sherlock’s voice. A voice in my ear tells me to walk out to the pool.

Sherlock looks at me. Dumbfounded. I can see the look of hurt on his face. He thinks I’m Moriarty! I feel like my heart has been stabbed. How could he think that. After everything we have been through. I blink S.O.S. I hope he notices… If I am to die, he cannot think that I am Moriarty.

Then Moriarty has me speak. And soon Sherlock’s face turns to panic, if Sherlock can panic. I don’t know if it’s from what I say, or from the S.O.S. 

Sherlock circles, trying to find my kidnapper. Slowly walking closer to me. I want to scream, to tell him to run… I have a bloody bomb strapped to me! 

Jim opens the back door to the pool. Yes, Molly’s boyfriend, Jim. Sherlock pulls my gun on him and I have a laser sight pointed at me. I stand as still as I can… I don’t want to cause Sherlock’s death. 

Jim and Sherlock… Flirt… With me standing between them with a bloody bomb! (Have I mentioned the bomb?)

“You all right.” Sherlock is concerned about me. 

He hands a USB drive to Jim, and Jim makes a mistake… He steps between me and my boyfriend. After he had the nerve to flirt with him. I wrap my arms around Jim’s neck. If I get shot, he’s going down with me. But then another red dot appears… This time on Sherlock. Sherlock shakes his head once… Game’s up.. I let go of Moriarty and step back. 

Jim and Sherlock flirt some more. I almost wish I could make the bomb go off… No one flirts with my boyfriend! Jim leaves out the door he sent me in from. The laser sights disappear and Sherlock flings himself at me, ripping the coat and bomb off. 

“Alright? Are you alright!?” Panic, concern, love… his baritone voice betrays his feelings.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

I want to hug him, but I collapse against the wall. 

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Sherlock is pacing, scratching my gun to his head.

“Me? Yeah, fine, fine, fine.” He looks like a caged animal. 

“That, uh, thing that you...that you did, that you offered to do, that was um… good.”

Sherlock said thank you…

Just as my nerves are calming down, and I feel I could get up and hug Sherlock, Jim comes back. Its a bit of a stalemate. Sherlock and I have laser sights pointed back on us. Sherlock looks at me, his eyes questioning me, and gives me a short nod. He’s going to shoot the bomb. I nod back. He points my gun at the coat which is now close to Jim’s feet. After a few words, much like moves in a game of chess, Jim leaves us. This time because of a phone call. Who would actually call that creep? Sherlock and I collect ourselves and go back to the flat. I need a drink, and god forbid I sound like a child, a hug.

Back at the flat, I collapse walking up the stairs. Sherlock has to help me get up the stairs and he flops me down on his bed. He takes my shoes and clothes off, leaving me just in my pants. He smiles. 

“Red?” 

I’m too exhausted to comment, so I just smile back. 

“I’ll go fetch you a drink and call Lestrade to let him know we’ll be down to Scotland Yard tomorrow. Then I promise I’m yours for the rest of the night.” He leaves me with a parting kiss on my forehead. Maybe I should get kidnapped more often. He’s awfully affectionate. 

As soon as he is in bed with me, I wrap my arms around him. And stop holding my emotions back. I’ve never been a man to cry, but I’ve also never had a bomb strapped to me. I cry myself to sleep that night, with Sherlock holding me and running a hand through my hair. It was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this ok? Does it need more? Does it need less? Thought's?


	10. Sex and Ninjas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sherlock, are we actually doing this. Are we actually in public dressed as bloody ninjas?”  
> “Case, John, its for a case!”  
> “Yes, but, Sherlock… NINJAS.” He rolls his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is based off of John's blog. And the case called "The Geek Interpreter. " You see John, writing it in Season 2. This entry in his blog is probably my absolute favorite one. I mean, can you imagine Sherlock and John, dressed as ninjas?
> 
> http://www.johnwatsonblog.co.uk/blog/16june

It’s the 14th of June. By now most of our… friends (as John makes me call them), know we are dating. John and I have grown quite close in the last two or so months. I haven’t had to sleep in an empty bed since the night he slept at Sarah’s. We’ve settled into a routine. He cooks for me daily. I especially love is risotto. I think he’s trying to make me fat. 

I haven’t had a case since the night at the pool, and I’m starting to go insane. John is a saint for putting up with me. He even does my laundry. Mrs. Hudson is pleased about that. Though, I keep finding his red pants in with my laundry. I know he does it on purpose. I secretly don’t mind. 

I’m bored, and it isn’t even 9:00 in the morning. John is in the shower. I was thinking of joining him when an idea came to my mind. A childish, yet glorious, idea.  
I wait until I can tell that he’s almost done, then silently enter the bathroom and take his red pants from his pile of clothes. Then creep back out to the living room. I strip naked, kick my clothes away and put his red pants on my head. I stand in the center of the room with both my hands on my hips and stifle a giggle. I must look utterly ridiculous. The bathroom door opens. And I say in my most serious tone.

“John, what do you think? I’m Captain Underpants!” With ‘underpants’ I lose it. I start running around the flat laughing and waving my arms like a mad man. I wish I could see John’s face, but it’s hard to see anything through his underpants. But I can hear the laughter in his voice. 

“Sherlock, give me those, now. Or I’ll smack you with my towel.”

I just run away, nearly bumping into the table in the kitchen.

“Sherlock. I won't warn you again.”

“Like a towel would hurt. Do come up with better threats, John!” I stand still and put my hands on my hips again. That was my first mistake. The pain was white hot, and right on my thigh. He hits me another 6 times in quick succession. 

“Yeah, doesn’t hurt, eh?” He’s laughing now. He always finds it funny when I’m hurt.

I rip his pants off my face to see him grinning with his towel twirled into a snake one corner in each hand, just as he cracks it like a whip across my stomach.  
I raise my hands in surrender and throw his pants back at him. It’s then I realize we’re both naked. And I grin. I know how to solve my boredom! Next time he tries to hit me with his towel I grab it and use it to pull him close. 

“Want to go play Doctor?” I give him a wink.  
“Sure! Let me just put these down.” He gives me a coy smile.  
“These?” I’m confused

He places his towel and, good lord, his phone on the table… 

“John… please tell me you didn’t take a picture.”  
“I promise you, Sherock. I didn’t take a picture of you naked, running around the flat with my pants on your head.”  
“Thank y…”  
“However, I did take a video. A picture just wouldn't do!”  
I make a dive for his phone.  
“Don’t bother deleting in, luv. I already sent it to Lestrade.. Don’t worry, he’ll only see your arse.”  
“That’s it!”  
I tackle him and pin him to the ground. He pretends to resist, but we both know he loves it way too much.  
“I’m going to make you pay for that, Doctor.” I draw out "doctor" into a low growl directly into his ear.  
“Yeah? Well I was hoping you would”  
“Let’s see if your tone changes, shall we?” I snarl, biting his ear lobe rather hard.  
“Never laugh at live dragons, eh?”  
“Especially a bored dragon.” 

I bite down on his neck. I’m going to leave marks. He hates it when I leave marks. But I don’t care. After all, he asked for this. 

I grab a fistful of hair and turn his head so more of his neck is exposed. I suck right under his ear, where his jaw beings. Once there is a lovely purple mark I move lower and bite down. Not too hard… I don’t want to make him bleed. After I have completely covered the left side of his neck in marks, I flip his head over so I can take advantage of the other side of his neck. Other than the occasional twitch when I bite down, he doesn’t move. 

*chime*  
John's phone goes off. I reach up and grab it. 

Lestrade: John! I cannot even handle that! Is he using again? Regards, everyone at the Yard is dying. 

*click*

I take a picture of John, with his eyes shut, covered in hickies and bite marks. 

Me, using John's phone: No I'm not using, Lestrade! I'm in love with an idiot. And he paid for that video. *picture attachment*

John is now trying to claw his phone away from me. I hit send and toss his phone aside. John gives me the "I'm going to kill you" look and I just grin. 

"Equal rights mean equal fights, my dear. Now come on.” 

I guide him up by his hair and lead him to our room. I do one of my favorite things. I toss him onto the bed. I love watching him hit the bed. It makes his arse jiggle. I slide on top of him and pin his arms to the bed. 

“Now, Doctor Watson, you’re mine.”  
“I'm always yours, you big idiot.”  
“Shut up and let me kiss you.”

I kiss him hard. Our slips smash together with such force I’m afraid that I’ll break him. I love it when he is pinned to the bed, but lifts his head up to meet my mouth. It makes me pull back and make him reach for the kisses. Now, I should send a video of this to Lestrade. 

In two months I’ve gotten better at sex. My movements are no longer slow or uncertain. I know how to play John like he is my violin. All it takes is one hand in his hair, some hard kissing, a bite on the ear, then my my mouth trailing soft kisses down his chest and stomach stopping right above his dick. By that point he is all but screaming in pleasure. I also know how to turn him on in public. Apparently when I wink at him, it makes him very, very uncomfortable around people. So after a day out, or a day in with friends, I’ll wink and he’ll know its time to go home. 

This morning, though, I don’t need to use all my tricks. Between the biting, kissing, and my hand now teasing his dick, he’s begging me to fuck him. I grab the lube from under my pillow. He always yells at me for keeping it there. 

I lean down and kiss him as I push into him. My hands are on either side of his face supporting me. His legs are wrapped around my waist and he has a hand digging into my back. Apparently he won’t be the only one with marks. 

This morning, our pace has changed… I am no longer “Fucking” him. No, this is more. Not that our past sexual encounters have been a disappointment. That could never be the case. But something has changed. I have changed. Today, right now, we are making love. He catches my eye and holds my gaze. 

“Sherlock Holmes, I love you.” He says it with his smoothest voice. I could melt right now. I could melt into a pile of happy emotions. Half of which I didn’t realize existed.  
“Jonathan Watson, I love you too.” 

Without any urging, or screaming, we both climax at the same time. I’ve never been hit this hard by an orgasm before. I can’t even hold myself up. I collaps into his arms as my body starts twitching. It takes a full five minutes before I can move, let alone speak. 

“My dear Jonathan, you are a genious.” I say as I roll over, feeling bad for squishing him.  
“Uh. Thanks?”  
“I mean it! How did you do that?”  
“Sherlock, what are you talking about?”  
“My brain. It… turned off. Is that normal?”  
“That hasn’t ever happened to you before?”  
“No.”  
He looks at me and giggles.  
“It is perfectly normal, Sherlock. Just enjoy it.”  
“It’s not normal. Not for me. Thank you, luv.” I curl up into his side and revel in this new discovery. For a full 5 minutes I felt nothing other than the afterglow of an orgasm. I felt no boredom.“Look at it, John. Quite. Calm. Peaceful. Isn’t it lovely.”  
“Alright, who are you, and what have you done to Sherlock?”

I just giggle. 

*Two days later 16/6/2010*

 

Wednesday morning I’m still bright and cheerful. John and I have spont the last two days in bed. I was secretly hoping for another day of snogging and shagging, but was somewhat disappointed when an interesting case came up.

Three young men came to our flat presenting a case of a comic book coming to life. Chris, one of the young men, was actually being harassed by this. He felt he was going insane. He had lost most of his friends and was a wreck. No one believed him that he was actually seeing comic book characters fighting, or causing, crime out on the streets.  
After a bit of help from twitter and my homeless network I had the perfect plan set up. I had Chris meet John and myself in Soho. Chris is dressed up like one if his characters, John and myself, Ninjas. 

“Sherlock, are we actually doing this. Are we actually in public dressed as bloody ninjas?”  
“Case, John, its for a case!”  
“Yes, but, Sherlock… NINJAS.” He rolls his eyes.

All This while we are running through Soho to where we are meeting Chris.

“Can’t you get those short legs of yours to move any faster?” I say as I drag John with me.  
“Oi! I’m doing my best to keep up. You’re practically dragging me anyway. Might as well be handcuffed to you.”  
“Remember, when we get there, we’re fighting Chris. Not me. So get rid of that attitude. Oh, and don’t use my name! We’re supposed to be undercover!”  
“Honestly, Sherlock. Give me some credit. Although I have seen you fight before. And I have to say, you get pretty hot when you’re all sweaty from fighting. Might not be able to resist. And fine, what should I call you. I need to call you something.”  
“Obvious. Redbeard. You are Assassin. And stop looking at my arse, its’ slowing you down!”  
“Well, Redbeard, what else am I supposed to look at while you drag me behind you? Oh, and do ninjas normally hold hands while they’re chasing after the enemy?”  
I look down and realize I’m still holding his hand.  
“Well, just stop letting it slow you down… and.. Hands… hmm… Probably not. Better let go, we’re almost there.”  
“Ok Sher - Eerrr, Redbeard. I’m hurrying.”  
“My plan is, jump out at Chris as start ‘fighting.’ My homeless network should have been able to draw quite a crowd by now. Then he can win the fight, unmask himself and prove that he isn’t seeing things!”  
“So, Ok, but once he wins the fight, what then? Do you think they’ll fall for it? The rouse that is?” John seems doubtful.  
“Of course they will. People see but they do not observe. After he wins, we run. Don’t want the crowed to get to us. There he is! Come on, Assassin!” I give my best battle cry and charge at Chris.  
“Right then… Shall we?” John follows, a little bit hesitantly. Then, more heartily,  
“Catch him, Redbeard!”

I charge in, and startle the poor man. He recovers and pairies my blows. Just in time. John jumps in and I think for a moment that Chirs might not be able to do this. But apparently he's leaned some moves from those graphic novels of his.  
We're soon in an epic battle of two, handsome might I add, ninjas verses... Well whatever he's supposed to be. He punches me. He actually punched me! John defends me by kicking him in the arse and sending him flying forward.  
Chris reacts by falling into a summersault and coming back up on his feet.  
Pretty soon a large crowed had gathered. Most of which was not my homeless network. Our time is up. I let Chris get in a few good punches and pretend to be hurt. John catches on and follows suit.  
"You have won this time, but we will be back! We will strike at night when you are least expecting it!"  
I run towards the way we came. Hoping John will follow. He does, and as soon as we are out of sight I burst out laughing. 

“You..." *pant* ..."cannot tell me," *pant pant* "that you didn’t enjoy that.” We had run a few blocks by now and I was out of breath  
John gives me his 'only for sherlock giggle' "God..." *pant* "Sherlock," *pant pant* "I really did, you know. Thank you." *Pant pant* "I think we should *Pant* do that again sometime.”  
I raise my eyebrow at him. "Hmm. Role play, John.  
He blushes and smiles shyly. "Would you be opposed to that?”  
“Of course not” I stop and plant a kiss on John’s forehead. “We’re almost to the safe spot. Breath back?”  
“Yeah, pretty much back. Why?” He smiles at me. This is the first time I have publicly kissed him since our first date.  
“Well, once we are safe, we’ll be alone. We don't have to just change and leave. Not right away at least." I blush and pill him alone.  
As he’s being dragged  
“God, Sherlock. this is making me want you right here, and right now.” He bites his lip. 

He just starting biting his lower lip. Surprisingly, I find it highly irrestable. 

"Come on, Assasian. One last bout of role play?" I wink as I pull him into the safe house.  
"God, Sherlock. Had I know you were going to be such a sex addict I would have introduced you to it sooner." He laughs and over exaggerates his movement as I pull him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so, much to Agnes!!! You will forever be my John Watson!!
> 
> -IA


	11. A Butterfly and A Cold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know what to get. So I got everything. You look like death, and they didn’t have anything for that.”  
> “Sherlock, I’m fine, really.”  
> “No, John. You, in fact, are not fine. You are sick. And it is my job to take care of you. So, please, let me take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long, and that it is short. I had writers block, or whatever. Couldn't figure this one out

It is late June. It is raining. It is chilly. It is midnight. And I’m outside, sitting on the side of the road with Sherlock. We are homeless. 

Well, not really, we’re just pretending. But I haven’t had a proper meal or rest in two days. I only came along to make sure Sherlock didn’t kill himself while solving this case. But at this rate, I might just kill him.

We had a young woman, a client, come to the flat last week. Her great grandmother’s diamond butterfly brooch had been stolen from a safe in her house. It had been passed down from woman to woman in her family. She was the youngest of 5. Her siblings were all boys. And she was adopted. Her oldest brother, Roger had always been jealous of her. She was “Mummies Princess” and got whatever she wanted. Emma knew it was Roger who had stolen the brooch. 

Roger had a run in with the law a few years back and had recently gotten out of prison. He had been living in a halfway house until early last week. He had disappeared. As well as her brooch. She found it hard to believe it was a coincidence. 

Well, Sherlock, being Sherlock and all, quickly figured out where Roger had been hiding. Because of the brooch’s value, he didn’t trust his homeless network. He insisted on recovering it himself. Why we couldn’t just barge in there and demand it back was beyond me. After all, I have a gun and Lestrade’s number on speed dial. Sherlock had given some long winded explanation, but I dare say I didn’t understand a word of it. So here I am, middle of the night, freezing my arse off waiting for Sherlock to make his move. 

“Ready?” He whispers.  
“It’s about sodding time!” I’m aching from head to toe. I get up and stretch my sore muscles. Ugh, that only made it worse. 

I stumble after the catlike Sherlock, losing track of him in the shadows.  
“Keep up, John!” The soft whisper comes from my left, I change course and follow him.  
“Phone Lestrade, tell him we’ll meet him at at the Thames River, where we discussed earlier.” He’s lucky my phone still has power, but I do as he asks.

The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur to me. I could hardly keep up with Sherlock, let alone see what was going on. And I was aching from head to toe. All I wanted was a nice cuppa and a bath. But no… I got something worse.

Sherlock gets to the Thames before me, Roger is waiting for him. He doesn’t know I’m here, yet. Might be best if I keep it that way. He had the butterfly in his hand. And oh how it sparkled in the moonlight. I can see how he could be jealous that his adopted sister got it, and not him - being the eldest. I do my best to circle around him while he and Sherlock talk. Surprisingly I’m able to get quite close without him noticing. Which is a good thing. Roger turns to face the Thames, raises his hand, and makes to throw the butterfly in the River.

I make my move, I dash toward him, grabbing at the butterfly with all my strength. He wasn’t expecting me, and my momentum throws both of us straight into the Thames. I could have planned that better.

Lestrade, of course, manages to get there in time to see all of this happen. He’s laughing his arse off as he helps Sherlock fish us out of the water. I scowl at them both as I had the brooch over. 

“Not another word, from either of you! I saved your bloody butterfly, so just bring me home. Now.” As if to prove my point, I sneeze.  
“I’ll have Donovan bring you guys home. You both smell…” He wrinkles his nose at us.

Home. 221B Baker Street has never looked so good to me. Mrs. Hudson had tea ready for us when we got back. I could kiss that woman. Sherlock head to the bathroom. 

“Oh no you don’t. I saved that brooch for you. I get to bathe first.” I’m tired and in no mood to flirt. He must sense that, because he just smiles and moves aside. I draw a bath, and relax in the warm water while I sip my tea. Despite being hungry, after my bath I head straight to bed. I’m asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow. I didn’t even hear Sherlock come to bed. If he did that night.

Next morning I wake up and I feel like a truck has hit me. Every muscle in my body hurts, and I know straight away that I have a fever.

“She..” My voice gives out. Bloody hell… I haven’t been sick in ages. I clear my throat and try again.

“Sherlock?” God, my throat feels like sandpaper. 

He comes into the bedroom and looks at me with concern.

“John! What’s wrong? You look awful.”  
“Good morning to you too…” I try to smile.  
“Any chance you want to run to the corner store and get me some medicine?”  
“Of course!” He bounds out of the house before I can tell him what kind to get. And I hurt too much to get up and get my phone.

I wrap myself up in the blankets and doze off.

“John!!” 

Sherlock’s voice echoes up the stairs. He bounds into the bedroom with such a clatter that it makes my head hurt. Between the fever, chills, hurting from head to toe, and now Sherlock making noise, I might kill myself.

“Shhh! Sherlock, my head.” I grimace as I prop myself up on my elbows. 

“Sorry, John.” He has two bulging bags in his arms. He places them down on the bed and starts taking out bottles and boxes full of medicine. He looks at me sheepishly.

“I didn’t know what to get. So I got everything. You look like death, and they didn’t have anything for that.”  
“Sherlock, I’m fine, really.”  
“No, John. You, in fact, are not fine. You are sick. And it is my job to take care of you. So, please, let me take care of you.”

“Of course, luv.” I smile up at him and fall back into bed.  
“Now, I’ve also got stuff for soup. Soup and tea! The internet said that is what you need.”  
“Really, you researched this?”  
“Well, yes… why?”  
“Because I’m a bloody doctor. You could have asked me.”  
“Oh.” He looks almost embarrassed.  
“But yes, soup, tea, rest, and medicine. You did well, Sherlock. Really, really well.”  
“I’m going to go make you some tea.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. Doting Sherlock. This is, strange. My head hurts so badly. Just having my eyes opens sends waves of pain through my skull. I will never make fun of my patients behind their backs ever again. I promise. A few minutes later he comes back in with a cup of tea. The tea feels amazing on my throat.  
“Thank you love.”  
He grins and dashes out of the room. I think he’s actually enjoying me being sick. Despite my curiosity I fall asleep. Well, as much as one can sleep between coughing and waking up to chills or hot flashes. While sleeping I had a horrible nightmare.

It was dark, and it was raining, and I was alone. So very alone. I was sitting in the flat, staring at Sherlock’s empty chair. My cane was propped up at the side of my chair. I felt so empty. 

“John? John! Wake up!” I wake up to Sherlock shaking me. It takes me a second to reorient myself. I wake with a feeling of dread. Like all life has been sucked out of me. But one good look at Sherlock and I have to laugh. Sherlock is wearing one of Mrs. Hudson’s aprons. 

“What… what are you doing?” I half laugh.  
“That doesn’t matter, what’s wrong. You were yelling! Were you having a flashback?”  
I rub my face. “No… It wasn’t a flashback. I’m fine Sherlock.” I don’t want to tell him what my dream was about.  
He looks at me with concern, but seeing I’m not going to give in leaves it alone.  
“Soups almost ready. I’ll bring you some!”  
“Right. I’ll get up then.”  
“No! Stay in bed, John.”  
“Sherlock, I’m sick of bed. I’m sick of not moving. Please let me be a normal human and eat at the table.”  
"Fine. Dull." He walks back to the kitchen. I stumble out behind him. Whatever he cooked smells delicious. As I enter the kitchen I look up in shock. The table is completely clean. And I mean spotless. He even washed it.  
"I didn't know we owned a table." My voice gives out halfway through my sentence.  
"Well. I needed somewhere to chop up the vegetables. And I didn't feel like cleaning the counter off."  
"Where is all your equipment?"  
"Uh..." He scratches his head. "Your old room..."  
"Oh. Right." I can't help it anymore. My throat is on fire and I feel like I have something lodged in it. I start coughing. Sherlock rushes over to me, leads me to a chair and pours me a cup of tea. I take a sip and look at him gratefully.  
"Now! Dinner is served!" He says in his best french accent, which is kind of hot.  
He places a bowl of steaming hot chicken soup in front of me.  
"Sherlock Holmes." *cough cough* Master chef. How did this come about?"  
"You were sick. And the internet said homemade chicken soup. Cooking is quite easy, actually. It's all just science." He sits down across from me with a bowl.  
"Wait... You're actually going to eat?" I raise an eyebrow at him.  
"Apparently cooking. Made me hungry." He shrugs.  
I take a bite, and "My God, Sherlock! This is fantastic!"  
“Really? Thanks, luv.” If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was blushing. 

After dinner I try to help him clean up. Sherlock just points to the bedroom and says, “Go.” I wrinkle my nose at him and walk the opposite way and plop down on the sofa. I flick the telly on and turn to the news. Nothing all that interesting, but it’s nice to feel connected to the world again. 

“Can I get you anything, John?” Sherlock pokes his head into the room.  
“Uh, actually. A blanket would be fantastic. I can’t keep warm.”

He comes back a minute later with a blanket and a cup of tea. I’m not quite sure who this man is, but I’m liking it. Maybe I should get sick more often. 

“John, you are shaking like a leaf. Are you alright?”  
“I cannot get warm, Sherlock. I ache from head to toe, I have a fever and I’m freezing. I think it is safe to say I am not alright.” I give him a weak smile as I cocoon myself in the blanket.  
“I can help keep you warm.” He crawls onto the sofa behind me and wraps his arms around me. For such a lanky man, he has amazing body heat, so I snuggle into him. Despite his warmth, and the blanket, I’m still freezing. After a bit Sherlock gets up and walks off to the bathroom. 

“John, come here!”  
“Sherlock… I’m sick.”  
“Just come here, all ready!”  
“Fine!” I get up and stomp off into the bathroom. I’m met with the sight of Sherlock in the tub, beckoning me to join him. I smile and strip out of my pajamas.  
The water is blissfully warm, and as I lean up against Sherlock his warmth, and the warmth of the water seeps into my bones. I have died and gone to heaven. We stay in the tub until the water gets cold, then Sherlock dries me off and leads me back to bed. As he tucks me in he kisses me and asks as he’s leaving the room,

“Do you need anything else?”

I look up and frown at him.

“Yeah, you’ve forgotten one thing.”  
“I have?” The look of panic was adorable.  
“Yes, you idiot… come here.” I pat the bed next to me and he smiles as he joins me.


	12. Poppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus… Sh… Err… Mr. Holmes.” He moans.  
> Pretty soon I am making the most ridiculous noises on his dick. I am quite literally, slurping away. I pull off suddenly and he moans in protest.

John is sleeping. I’ve been up for hours. Most nights, with John at my side, I can actually sleep. But I’ve had one recurring thought these past few nights. Moriarty. He left far too easily. Whatever he has planned is going to be big. I fear I have to prepare myself, and John, for the worst. The thought overwhelms me. At this rate my pacing it going to wear a hole through the floor. My thoughts are spinning in circles and I feel like I might burst. There is so little to go on. I’ve solved cases with less to go on, but Moriarty is not an ordinary person.   
I need to do something to keep my mind off of things. I’ve check the website a dozen times already. No new cases… Well, no new interesting cases.  
John’s phone is sitting on the desk next to his laptop. Maybe there is something interesting on it. I scroll through his text messages.  
Mike. Mike. Mike. One from Harry. A few from Mycroft - old regarding a case.  
I flip through his settings. He obviously has no idea how to use this phone. I go into his shortcuts menu. An evil grin creeps over my face as I type in my name as the shortcut for “My incredibly handsome and sexy boyfriend.”   
I should feel bad. Should I feel bad? No. John should know better than to leave his phone around.  
Speaking of John. I’m bored again. I walk to the bedroom and I push the door open and admire how peaceful he is. The sun is just coming up, and there is a crack of light slipping through the curtain and it lands on the small of his back. I slip into bed and wrap myself around his warm body. He shifts and cuddles into me. I love how he can do that, without being awake, sense when I am here. The thought of being separated from this man feels like a knife through my heart. If I were to tell him that, he would tell me to shut up and just enjoy the moment. So that is what I try to do now. I rest my head on the back of his shoulder and trace his scar. We stay like this for a while, and I can feel myself calming down. His slow, steady breathing brings peace back to my mind.

“Why do you do that?” John’s voice is thick with sleep.  
“Do what?”  
“Trace my scar. You do that, all the time.”   
“I don’t know, to be quite honest. I guess in a way I am thankful for it. For you getting shot.”  
“You, thankful? Oi! Why are you thankful that I got shot?” He raises his eyebrows up at me.  
“Because, John. If you hadn’t been shot, you wouldn’t have come back. You wouldn’t be here, right now.” I kiss him. When our lips meet I feel like I have just taken cocain. The high he gives me is unreal. I feel an odd tingling feeling in my chest, I feel like I can’t catch my breath, and every ounce of my body is screaming more.   
“Come here.” I roll over onto my back and he crawls on top of me.   
“John, you are like a drug to me. One kiss, and I’m addicted. I just want more and more. Your warm breath on my skin sends shivers down my spine, and my body screams for more.”  
“So shut up and kiss me.” He grins down at me.  
I pull his head close and kiss him.   
“John, I think it is time we tested out some of that new bondage equipment. Don’t you?”  
“Of course, Mr. Holmes.” He grins at me.  
“On your feet, then Soldier.”   
He jumps to his feet and claps his arms behind his back. I grin at him, and at his morning wood.   
I reach into our nightstand, which is now full of bondage equipment, and pull out what looks like a roll of thick black medical gauze. It is somewhat self adhesive, so it clings to itself quite easily.   
I make a blindfold by wrapping some of the gauze around John’s eyes. Then I secure his hands behind his back with the gauze as well, I tie it off, just to be sure. I take a fistfull of John’s bum in my hands and give it a little wiggle. I reach back into the draw and pull out some of the flavored lube I had picked up. I spin him around a few times, just long enough to disorient him. No need in him knowing exactly where I am.   
I squeeze a small amount of the lube on my hand. In one fluid movement, my hand and my mouth are on his dick, and I work them up and down his shaft. Every now and then flicking the tip of his dick with my tongue.  
“Jesus… Sh… Err… Mr. Holmes.” He moans.  
Pretty soon I am making the most ridiculous noises on his dick. I am quite literally, slurping away. I pull off suddenly and he moans in protest.   
“Now now… None of that.” I move to the bed and say, “Come find me.”  
Without being able to use his hands for guidance he feels with his toes. Why he can’t simply remember the layout of the room is beyond me. Even after being spun around I would have no problem finding the bed.  
He makes it over, and I take his hips in my hands. I scoot closer to the edge of the bed and guide him between my legs. I add a little more lube just for good measure. This is a surefire way to cure boredom! I guide his dick, and he gives one thrust before I’m moaning in pleasure.   
Watching him, with his arms behind his back, fucking me, makes me incredibly hard. I grab my dick. I almost wish he could see this. I think he would get jealous that he wasn't able to touch me.   
Soon John is grunting. His lips curl up and his jaw clenches every time he thrusts into me. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer.  
"Oh god. I can't hold it anymore. Please, please may I cum?"  
"Yes."  
John thrusts in a few more times then I watch as his knees go weak. I grab his shoulders and guide him back to the bed.   
I untie his hands and take his blindfold off and he lays down next to me.   
"You didn't cum?"  
"Nope. Not yet." I wink at him.   
He crawls over me and gets between my legs. His lips encircle me and my eyes roll back into my head.   
"Mmm. When did you get so good at that?"  
He just answers me with slurping noises.   
"John?"  
He looks up at me. God. So hot.   
"Where do you want it?" I grin at him. I know he hates to swallow, so I’ve been making him tell me where he wants it. He’s going to say chest. He always says chest.   
“You already know where.” He grins  
“Yeah, Ok. On your back then!”  
I straddle his waist and give in to the orasm. I kind of over shot his chest a little… and most of it lands on his face. I can’t help it, so I laugh out loud at the look of surprise on his face.   
“Sorry, Luv. I’ll grab a tissue.” I say between laughs.   
“Sorry, my ass! Sherlock, you do that on purpose!”   
“Swear to god, I don’t.” I hand him a tissue and he wipes his face off. He kisses me.  
“Sure, sure you don’t mean too. I’m gonna go shower? Coming with?”  
“How could I refuse an offer like that?”

 

~Later that day~

 

John is on is computer. He’s always on his computer. He’s looking at stupid videos of cats. Is this what we’ve become? A couple that stays it and watches cats fall off pianos? I should teach him out to play chess. Now that would be interesting. 

I hear the crash of piano keys followed by a strangled meow for the tenth time that afternoon.

“Must you watch that over and over?” I snap. I can’t take it any more.

“It’s funny!” John’s laughing at the computer.

“Its annoying.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Up All Night Experimenting. I didn’t know you were the only one allowed to be annoying.” John slams the laptop cover down.   
“You’re mad. Why are you mad?” I’m thoroughly confused. 

“Because, Sherlock. You just don’t get it.”

“Clearly.” I wait for an explanation, and I get none.”

“John, I don’t understand how you are mad at me. You know me, you know I don’t sleep much. And I think best at night. Why is this a problem now?”

“Why is it always about you? I wasn’t even mad about that!” John’s shouting now. I don’t see him angry very often. In the past he’s always gone out for a walk when he gets angry. Is this what I have to look forward to as his boyfriend? 

“Then what are you mad about?”

“You blew up the bloody microwave last night!”

“It was an accident… I forgot that the bone had a metal pin in it…”

“Why were you microwaving a bone?? Oi! Just forget it. I’m going out for a bit.” Ahhh… there we go.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” He gets up and puts his coat on and storms out of the flat.

I wait a minute before texting him.

[Sent] John, I’m sorry. -SH

 

No response. Fearing he might have gotten himself kidnaped again, I put my coat on and head out. He probably went to the bar down the street, knowing him.   
I walk down to the bar, and sure enough there is John. He’s sitting at the bar talking with a gray haired man. Lestrade. Why is he talking with Lestrade? Was there another case? No, Gaven would have called me first. Not meet John at a bar.

“Stalking yours too, I see. How trusting of you.” That coy voice…. Mycroft.

“Mine too? What are you talking about, Mycroft?” 

“John Watson, of course.” Mycroft nods in John’s direction.

“Yes, I know that! Really Mycroft… What you you mean ‘too’?” I think for a moment. I can’t let him prove to me that he really is the smarter one. 

“Ooooohhhhh….” My eyes get wide… 

“Lestrade? You and Lestrade? You have a goldfish?”

“Quite.”

We stand there, two brothers watching our boyfriends without them knowing.  
Feeling a bit guilty I turn and walk back in the direction of Baker Street. “Fancy some tea?” I call over my shoulder. Mycroft says nothing but I hear his footsteps follow me. 

“I wasn’t stalking John, Mycroft. John has a habit of disappearing when he leaves. I was simply making sure no harm came to him.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, Sherlock.”

We walk into the flat and I plop down in my chair. Mycroft takes one look around the flat and wrinkles his nose.

“What? What was that for?”

“You and John really should put clothes on more often… By the looks of it Mrs. Hudson hasn’t been up here to clean in ages.”

Just as I was about to respond my phone dings. 

John: I’m sorry I got mad, My incredibly handsome and sexy boyfriend. I’ll be home soon.

John: Um… Ignore that. No I’m not drunk.

[Sent:] Tell Garret that Mycroft is here.

John: Uh, ok?

“Our, boys… will be here soon. Fancy a game of chess while we wait? Mrs. Hudson isn’t home, so I’m afraid there won't be any tea.”

We sit down to a game of chess. Normally we chide each other with every move.. Tonight we play in silence. Finally, when I can see I have him cornered, I make my move. 

“Lestrade?”

“Do we really have to do this? He rolls his eyes.

“Yes… Well no. Just one question. How long?”

“Since February.”

“Oh. Good.” I made my move.

“Check Mate.”

Mycroft sighs and sits back in his chair… No. John’s chair. I really should get another chair for this room. 

John and Gar.. Greg walk up the stairs. Well, John walks up the stairs. Greg on the other hand is hanging off John and singing some ditty about his bonnie laying on the ocean. Greg pulls himself up and stumbles over to Mycroft. Is this the best London really has to offer? 

“Hi Darling…” Greg slurs. He sits on Mycroft’s lap and kisses him. To my utter surprise Mycroft smiles and rubs his nose up against Greg's as he says, “Hello, Poppet. Did you miss me?”

John and I exchange a look then quickly look away from my brother and his toy. 

“I liked you better without a goldfish, Mycroft.”

“Tea! Shall I make tea?” John says trying to clear the air.

“No, G and I have to head out, I’m afraid. Goodbye, John. Thank you for seeing him safely here.” Mycroft gives me a look as he supports Lestrade. 

I watch as they slowly descend down the stairs, but close the door when I hear Mycroft say “One more step, love. That’s it.”

John exhales as the door shuts and shudders. “That was… something.”

“Yes. Are we like that?”

“Alone, yeah. In front of others, God no! I’d have your head. You know that.”

I grin at him 

“Dinner, Poppet?”

He laughs at me and shakes his head..

“Yeah, don’t say that again…. But food, I’m starved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this chapter guys... I've been working on my cosplay dress for Boston Comicon. Haven't had a ton of time to write!!!!!!


	13. Birthday Breakfast (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's John's birthday, and he's sure that Sherlock has forgotten all about it.

July is here, we’ve had a few small cases, but nothing major. I’m actually quite surprised that we haven’t heard from Moriarty again. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t watching my back. The thought of having another bomb strapped to me, or worse, frightens me senseless. 

“Sherlock, any plans for tomorrow?”

“Plans? Nope. Why?” He doesn’t even bother to look up from his microscope. 

“No reason…” I mumble… I flick the telly off and stand up. 

“Where are you going?”

“Out. Going to grab a drink with Greg.” 

He looks up over his microscope. His piercing blue-green eyes look at me, and almost makes me forget I’m annoyed at him.

“I love you.”

“You what?!” I choke on the words. He’s never told me that he loves me before.

“You heard me.” He looks back down.

“Yeah… It was worth a shot. I love you too, you git.”

He gives me his perfect half smile that makes the corners of his eyes wrinkle. I start towards the stairs but think better, I hate leaving annoyed at him. And he doesn’t even know why I’m annoyed. I walk over to him and kiss the top of his head.

“Right, try not to blow up the new microwave while I’m gone.”

He flicks his eyes up one more time and says. 

“No promises. I get bored when you’re gone.” I shake my head and walk out the door. 

~~ At the bar~~

“Can I have another?” I point to my drink. The bartender nods.

“John, slow down. It’s Tuesday night! I can’t keep up with you. Some of us have work tomorrow.” Greg laughs as he sips on his first drink.

“Yeah well…. Night before my birthday? Not like I have plans tomorrow. Might as well indulge a bit.” 

“How’s uh… Mycroft?” 

“He’s great. I’ve never been happier.”

I try my best not to spit out my drink. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah… But I wont bore you with details. But can I just say one thing?”

“Uh, sure.”

“God, John… can he kiss…” The look on his face was pure bliss. Do I look like this around Sherlock? “So wait, no plans for your birthday? What’s with that?”

“Eh… Just Sherlock. Not like birthdays matter to him. Still, can’t help myself. I was annoyed at him. Poor bloke doesn’t even know why.”

“He’s Sherlock. God knows he’s used to annoying people.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

We sip our drinks in silence then it hits me…

“Mycroft, a great kisser?!?!”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the fact that Greg and I were quickly becoming good friends, but it is more likely that it was my own morbid curiosity. Six months ago talking to a guy friend about his boyfriend would have sent me running. Now I feel like a girl, wanting all the juicy details.

“Yeah, that mouth of his… He doesn’t use it just for barking orders, you know.” Greg looks at me and grins. 

“The way he kisses me. His lips feel like they are exploring my mouth, every time. His tongue flicks the inside of my mouth like I’m something he needs to discover. I thought maybe, it would only be like that with the fist kiss. Him being Mycroft and all, he’d know everything about me in seconds. But, John! Each kiss is better. It is as if he can’t get enough.”

I sip on my drink and nod. “I was afraid that Sherlock would get bored with me in the beginning. That he’d learn everything there was to know about me and get bored. How do you keep a secret from the Holmes boys?”

“You can’t. Can you?” 

I’m on my third drink now, I can feel the heat in my cheeks. My head feels light and I feel like I could walk on water. I clap my arm around Greg’s shoulders and raise a glass to him.

"John, perhaps this is too personal, and you don't have to tell me.." Greg trials off. 

"Were you, uh, Sherlock's first?"

"Oh yeah, he's a clean slate. But I'm corrupting him rather well." I chuckle. 

“Here’s to us. Two normal blokes dating the Holmes brothers! Cheers!” We clink glasses and take a long drink. I finish my drink and look at my watch. Quarter to 10. 

“I should head home. If I stop and get food on my way home, I might be able to get Sherlock to eat.”

“Haha and I should get home.. I promised Mycroft I’d share a piece of cake with him.” The grin on his face made me believe he was not talking about eating the cake…

“Right. Well, thanks, Greg.”

“Happy birthday, John!”

“Ta!” We part ways and I’m thankful for the coolness of the night. The alcohol was seriously making me overheat. I stop by the chinese place on my way home and pick up a few egg rolls and some rice. Not like he’ll actually eat. It starts raining when I'm about half way home, so I quicken my pace. 

As I near the flat I look up, all the nights are off. It is way too early for Sherlock to be in bed. Where has he gone this time?

I enter our flat and it is pitch dark. I flick on the light and see a note on the floor. 

“John, I’ll be late. Leave the food in the fridge, and don’t stay up. - SH”

I hate it when he does this. He doesn’t text because he knows I’ll argue and ask him where he is going. I stick an egg roll in my mouth and throw the rest in the fridge. I sit down at the desk and check my e-mail.

Harry: 

Happy birthday, brother! We should have dinner soon.:

She remembered. That’s a first. I scroll through a few other emails. Mainly people asking for Sherlock’s help. Its a bit early to go to bed, but the alcohol has made me drowsy. I also hate going to bed alone. But if I don't get sleep I'll feel downright aweful tomorrow. 

I send Sherlock a text as I climb in to bed.

[sent] “Goodnight luv, come back to me… The bed is empty.”

I wake up the next morning to loud clanging coming from downstairs. It’s morning.   
“Sherlock, someones at the door.”   
I roll over to see if he’s awake. Of course, he’s not in bed. Probably didn’t even come to bed last night. I get up and put my dressing gown on and stumble into the living room. It was still raining out. There was footsteps coming up the stairs. It was Sherlock with groceries, of all things. And god was he a sight.

Damp curls hung around his face, his shirt clung to him, his sleeves rolled up and water droplets spilled down his forearms, and dripped from his hair into his face. Happy birthday me. 

“Well aren’t you a sight.” I look him up and down. I want to rip those wet clothes off him. 

“As are you.” He looks me up and down. I’m just wearing pants and my dressing gown. He walks over to me and wraps his arms around me, making my dressing gown wet. He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips, his wet hair getting in my face.

“Happy birthday, luv.” He whispers in my ear.

“You remembered?”

“John Watson! I’m shocked. Do you think I would forget your birthday?” He kisses me again and it takes my breath away. He starts to turn around but I stop him.

“Before you go anywhere… We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

As I slowly work the buttons his breathing changes and his face flushes. 

“It’s my birthday, and I want to see you squirm..” I whisper, so low that it is hardly audible. But I know he’s heard me as he takes a deep breath in and his back stiffens. Soon I have half of his shirt unbuttoned. And his chest is exposed, glistening with moisture from the rain. I pull him close by the lower half of his shirt and kiss his chest. I can feel his heart beat beneath my lips and this drives me nuts. I bite down hard on his chest and he whimpers. Sherlock actually whimpers. I’ve teased him enough for now, so I finish unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Now go change! I don’t want you catching cold.” I slap his butt and push him off towards the bedroom.

“Off you go, and be quick about it!”

He comes out a moment later wearing pants and just a normal t shirt. I’m shocked, I’ve never seen him in just a t shirt before.

“Now then!” He spins around and clasps his hand. “Breakfast!” He dashes to the kitchen and starts making breakfast. I watch him work, he is so meticulous about everything. When he is done cooking, he sits me down at the table and pours me a cup of coffee and sets a plate full of food down on the table. 

I take a look at the spread in front of me. There is eggs, sausages, fruit, toast and jam. 

“Sherlock, this… this looks fantastic. Thank you so much.” 

He grins as he sits down across from me. I swear he is blushing again. Good. Time to make him squirm. I reach my foot under the table and find the inside of his thigh. His eyes shoot wide open in surprise. I take it a step further and rub his groin with my foot.

“John….” God.. I love it when he moans my name

“Mmm?” I look up at him and act like everything is normal.

He looks at me. And those eyes… I want to bend him over this table and have him. Right now.

“How’s the food?” He gives me his best innocent look. It just wants to make me fuck him harder.

“Yeah, fine. It’s great.” I smile at him as I rub his groin with my foot some more. I can feel how hard he is already. My goal is to have him begging for me by the end of the morning. I want him to beg. I tease him off and on for the rest of the meal. Just enough to keep him hard.

“Sherlock, this meal was amazing.” I give him one more rub with my foot before standing up. Sherlock looks dazed as he whimpered in protest.

“You alright?” I grin down at him.

“John… Why did you stop?”

“Sherlock, you are not allowed to whine on my birthday! Now help me clear off this table.”

He stops sulking and helps me clear the dishes. Once the table is cleaned off I grab him and throw him against the table. I press into him hard, preventing him from going anywhere, not that he would. 

"Now, Mr. Holmes..." I snarl into his ear. Biting his earlobe for good measure. "I might overuse you today, and you aren't allowed to protest. Got that?"

He nods. This is going to be easier than I thought. 

I lift the hem of his shirt and grab at his sides, pressing my body so close to him that I can feels his muscles twitch. I swing him around so his hips are pressed against the table and I lean into him, my hard prick pressing into his ass. I reach around and slip my hands down his pants and grab his member. He lets out a grunt. 

“Hmm something isn’t right here.” I stop and stand back, looking him over. He looks at me with pure desire written on his face. He must hate me for stopping.

“Don’t move. I want you in that exact same position when I come back… Oh, but lose the clothes.” I walk off towards the bedroom.

A few minutes later I come out with a bright red ribbon - I don’t remember where it came from, but we had saved it for some odd reason. Sherlock hated throwing anything out - and a bottle of lube. I strut over to Sherlock and I’m pleased to see that he is exactly where I left him, only naked. 

“Good boy.” I purr into his ear. I watch in delight as shivers run down his back. I spin him back around to face me, and I’m please to see that he’s still hard. The anticipation must be killing him. Sherlock is not known for his patients. I take the ribbon and tie a nice bow around his neck. 

“There. That’s better.” I wink at him. “Now, get that ass of yours up on the table..”

He hesitates, so I smack the side of his thigh with two fingers, just hard enough to make him wince. He then quickly gets up onto the table. I drop my shorts and lube myself up.

“Nothing like a little bit of dessert first thing in the morning.” I pull him closer to the edge of the table so fast that he has to throw his arms out behind him to stay balanced. I place my prick over his hole and look him square in the eye. 

“You read for this?” 

He looks a little unsure, but he nods. I push in slowly about an inch, letting him adjust, then I grab his hips and slam into him. Oh God… Having Sherlock on the kitchen table, first thing in the morning… It was so dirty, so wrong, but oh so right. I don’t hold back, I give him everything I’ve got, including the most animalistic noises. Sherlock is thoroughly enjoying myself, even as far as grabbing himself and jerking off while I give him a thorough pounding. The sight of him, one arm behind him holding himself up, the other jerking off, his still damp hair sticking to his head, it's enough to push me over the edge. I grab the table with both hands and slam into him one last time. My knees go weak as I climax. Sherlock isn’t far behind me, he grabs my back, nails digging into my skin and throws his head back with a howl of pleasure. I take his face in both my hands and just before we kiss he whispers with a coy smile,

“Happy birthday darling. But do I have more in store for you…” He winks and falls back on the table. 

To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how awkward it is with Greg... I'm trying to get better with other characters, but it doesn't come easy for me!


	14. Birthday Part Two

After we cleaned off the table for a second time that morning Sherlock said he would be right back and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment. 

“Fine, but you’re keeping that ribbon on! I quite like it.” I call into the bedroom.

“Really, John?”

When he came out of the bedroom, he was holding an envelope. But he still had the ribbon on. He lead me to the sofa and handed me the envelope as we sat down. 

“Its, uh, My present. It isn’t much, but I had no idea what to get you.” He looks small, like he’s trying to shrink into the sofa. 

I turn the envelop over in my hand. It is just a plain white envelope. Nothing special. Well, nothing that I can see anyways. I open it up and pull out a hand written letter. It was written in deep purple ink, in the most incredible handwriting I have ever seen.

Preface

John. I hope that this letter will prove to be an adequate gift.  
Writing this, my feelings for you, is something that I have never done for anyone. I will, accordingly, deny everything I have written if it is ever mentioned in mixed company. All we have, after all, is our reputations.

 

My Dear Doctor,

 

You are the best man that I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. You are kind, if not the kindest man I know, you are patient, and you genuinely care for people. As a doctor should. You have seen war, you have seen peace, you have known love, and you have known pain.   
You deserve so much more than I can give you, John. You deserve a warm and happy companion. Yet you have chosen me, a cold, calculating, machine. Even I cannot figure out why.  
You have endured so much in life, my dear John, and I’m so afraid that I will just add to the list of hurt. I cannot promise to never hurt you. It is not in my nature to think of others. But please, dear Doctor, I implore you, find it in your heart to forgive me. Forgive me when I wrong you, for often I don’t know that I have hurt you. Please know that it will never be my intention to hurt you with my words, or actions.   
Please know that wherever I am, or however long we are apart, you will always be the foremost thought on my mind.  
John… dear John, I would give you the stars if It was in my power. If I call you ‘idiot’ please know i mean no offense by it. I only wish the best for you, and it frustrates me when you do not think as clearly as I know you are capable of.   
You are, and always will be, my better half. John H. Watson, will all my heart, I love you. (Though love is just a flood of dopamine and serotonin that trigger specific physical reactions.)

-Your Sherlock (The world’s only gay Consulting Detective.)   
I stare at the letter, not daring to blink lest the tears in my eyes break free. I re-read the letter twice more before looking up at Sherlock. He was quite literally on the edge of his seat. If he scooted forward anymore he would fall off the sofa. His fingers were touching, just under his nose, but the were wiggling. Not his normal thinking pose, more of a nervous, wondering pose. 

“This…” I clear my throat attempting to not let my emotion show through. “This was, perfect. Sherlock, I couldn’t ask for anything better.” I took his face in both of my hands and kissed him.   
“Sherlock, I’m sorry I was angry with you last night. I thought you had forgotten.” I hang my head, slightly ashamed of myself, and my lack of faith in my boyfriend.

“John! It is your birthday. You are not allowed to be sad!”

I look up to see him staring at me like a puppy waiting for his master to throw the ball. His moods confuse me. One moment he is the brilliant detective, the next he is a child. 

“Right! So, Sherlock, what would you like to do today?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Me? It is your birthday. The birthday boy gets to pick. Isn’t that how it goes? The internet was rather vague.” 

"Sherlock, I just want a day with you. No ruddy cases, no murder, no one else, just the two of us against the world." I smile at him. "You know what?"

He stops me. "I was afraid you would want that." 

"Oh really? What do I want?" I cock my head. 

"You want to be courted. You want dinner and a movie. Don't you? You've wanted that for some time now, but you haven't asked. You've been afraid I wouldn't want to go." He was gentle in his deduction. 

"Sherlock, I wanted to ask. But you'd be bored. I hated the thought of making you suffer."

"You'll just owe me a proper shagging, Doctor." He grins wickedly. 

"Oh, of course I would. The great detective needing a shag after a boring date." I laugh. 

"Alright, movie! What would you like to see, luv?" Sherlock says as he sits up, with his feet on the sofa and his knees at his nose, arms wrapped around his chest. 

I grab my laptop and look up movies. I rattle off a few.   
Iron man 2   
"I saw the first one, it wasn't too bad. Robert Downey Jr. was brilliant in it."  
Twilight   
"That's not happening. I might be shagging a bloke but there's no way in hell I'm watching that shit. Back in my day vampires didn’t sparkle, and they sure as hell didn’t fall in love. Well, except for Angel… But Joss Whedon… Now that man’s a genius."

Sherlock looks up and gives me his how-could-you-hurt-me-like-that look.

“Just saying it how it is… You aren’t the only genius you know.”

“Huummfff” 

I go on.

A-team   
"Hmm could be interesting. Have you seen the trailer, Sherlock?"

"Ummm. No."

Grown ups   
"Something about this movie makes me sad to be a human."

Shrek Forever After. "Ha! Me, taking you to a cartoon. That'll be the day. I'm not quite that mean, yet." I look up and give him a wink. 

“They all sound…. tedious.”

“Sherlock, if you don’t give me your input I’m going to pick something at random, and force you to sit through it.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t test me, darling….”

“FINE” He humfs, “Iron Man.” 

“Really?” I look up at him in surprise. 

“If you ever tell anyone what I am about to say, I will kill you, and personally lead the police in your murder investigation.”

“Fine, fine, swear to god, I wont tell a soul.” I hold up my hands in defeat. 

He gets a gleam his his eye and jumps up and bounces on his feet like a child needing to use the loo.  
“Mycroft and I used to play Super Hero’s. He was always Batman. I was Iron Man because Tony Stark was a genius. Batman had people work for him, and Fox created all his gadgets. And…”

“Sherlock, I’m just going to stop you right there… You’re a marvel junkie, aren’t you?”

“Well, I am a junkie of sorts.” He winks.

“Haha, fine. Well it’s, eh, 10:30 now. We could head out soon, grab lunch then catch a movie? That sound alright?”

“Fine, but you still owe me some proper shagging.”

“Shouldn’t you owe me? It is my birthday after all.”

“Merely details, Watson!” 

“Yeah, don’t call me that… Makes me feel like I’m back in the military.”

“Fine… I’m going to go shower. I’m pretty sure I have jam in my crack.” He walks off to the bathroom while picking at his pants.

I claim the sofa as mine and position my computer on my lap. I’ve taken to writing down the happenings of my life, even if I don’t blog about it. I write about my dinner with Greg, about being annoyed with Sherlock, about waking up to him surprising me with breakfast, and best of all him remembering my birthday. I don’t get far before I hear singing coming from the bathroom. Well, humming, not singing. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Mozart. 

This is unlike Sherlock. Part of me wonders if he is actually happy, or if he is pretending, for my sake. The thought troubles me, so I push it from my mind. Either way, I’m going to enjoy today.   
I send a quick email to Greg.

Greg,

Believe it or not, he remembered. He’s actually going to the movies with me tonight. Dinner and a movie. Either I’m a lucky boy, or I’m in for a big surprise.   
-JW

I hit send and walk off to the bedroom. As I’m getting dressed, Sherlock walks out of the bathroom, wet hair in his eyes, just wearing his pants.

“Oi! What did I tell you about that ribbon? On! Now, Sherlock!” 

“Uuugggghh….” He rolls his eyes and saunters back off to the bathroom. He comes back over to the bedroom and throws the ribbon at me. “I’ll wear it out, but I won't wear it around my neck.”

“Have it your way. Drop them.” I nod to his pants.I can’t hide the grin that takes over my whole face. 

“Oh no…. You’re not…” 

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am, Sherlock! Drop them!”

He drops his pants and glares at me. I pick up the ribbon and tied it around his dick. I give it a tug for good measure. 

“Careful!”

“And that stays on, Sherlock. You hear?”

“Fine.” 

“Now, get dressed. We have a date!” 

~~~Later~~~

We walk out of the movie and Sherlock is like a child.

“But John! Did you see that part when Tony and Rhodes were in the garden, and Tony was all like… BOOM” He spins around, and makes hand motions as if he were actually Iron Man, and draws the attention of everyone around us..

“Yes, yes I did Sherlock. I was there, if you remember. Now calm down, or people will think you've lost it.”

“Yes, yes, sorry, Dad” 

“Food?”

“Mmmm, starved.” He looks down at me and give me his only-for-John smile. I take his hand and return the smile. We walk in silence for half a block, and I point to a restaurant. He nods and as we reach the door ask, “How’s the bow, darling?” I swear that his face turned the same color red as that bow.

We sit and order our food, as we wait I start to wonder what today has been about, where this side of Sherlock has come from.

“John, what is on your mind. Something is troubling you.” 

“Sherlock… Today, it has been wonderful. But why. Why are you doing this for me.”

He looks at the table for some time before answering.

“I know I don’t always show how I feel about you, John.”

I give a short laugh. He meets my eye and continues.

“But I wanted to show you that despite, myself… I do care.”

“Thank you, Sherlock.” 

We head back to 221B after we eat. As we walk up the stairs Sherlock asks,  
“What would like to do the rest of the day?”

“Honestly, I’d kind of like to just spend the afternoon in bed, and I seem to remember owing you a shag, I do have a nice ribbon to untie.” I take his hand and drag him into the bedroom, on the way through the kitchen I stop and grab a bottle of wine and a cork screw.  
We flop onto the bed and I open the bottle.   
“John, you didn’t bring glasses.”

“You’re always yelling at me about leaving dishes around, figured this would be easier.”

I take a long sip from the bottle and offer it to Sherlock. Surprisingly he takes a swig. We sit and talk, and share the bottle. Pretty soon we’re beyond lightheaded and heading straight toward full blown wasted, Sherlock achieves it before me. I take one final swig and place the empty bottle on the nightstand.

I jump on Sherlock and I rip his shirt off, not caring about his buttons. Mrs. Hudson will fix the shirt later. 

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes. You’re too gorgeous.” I growl into his ear and watch as a shiver runs down his spine.   
I start at his ear, biting as I go, not caring if I leave marks. The alcohol is fueling my libido so all I care about is feeling him quiver beneath my body. I can feel his heart beat as I press my chest against his, going in for a rough kiss that ends with my teeth on his neck. I go down his torso, biting, kissing, licking, grunting as I do. The wine makes my head feel light, and the passion strong. I feel his fingers grip my back, nails digging in. I reach his navel and realize he still has clothes in the way. With one rough tug he’s naked on our bed, and I have enough left in me to notice that he is as hard as a rock. 

“Jawn….” He drawls, wine thick on his lips. “Why is it, that I am naked, and you are clothed.” 

“Because… Well.. Actually, I don’t know.” I rip my shirt off, pulling it up over my head because my fingers can’t work a button anymore. I go back to work, fumbling with his belt. After what feels like ages I finally get the buckle and shortly after his trousers follow. Without even thinking I pull mine off as well and climb on him. I swing around so my hard dick is dangling in his face as I get to work on his.

“OOooooohhh… Jawn! You are brilliant! This is peerffff…uugnnnggg” His words are cut off as my dick enters his mouth. I take him in my mouth and I can taste the salty precum. He’s as turned on as I am. That’s a first.

I flick my tongue around his head as he takes me in. I have to remind myself not to clench my jaw in pleasure as he takes all of me as deep as he can. It’s all I can do to focus on my task because Sherlock is doing a stand up job. Soon we both get into a sort of rhythm and the room is filled with grunts, groans, and mumbled versions of, “Christ, Sherlock!” and “Jawwnnn.”

Just when I think I can’t take any more Sherlock stops. I look down at him and see he as two fingers in his mouth and he works them into my ass. Between the alcohol and the magic Sherlock is working on my body it is all I can do to keep up with him. I support myself on one arm and take his balls in my other hand. I feel his body quiver under me and that fuels me on more.

“God, Sherlock, this is going to get messy.”

He just sucks a little faster before saying

“You might want to move your head.” 

I move my head not a second too soon as shots of warm cum drip down my chin. As it is my birthday I chose not to give Sherlock any warning and his voice gets garbled in surprise as I shoot my load into his mouth.

I have enough energy left in me to crawl back up to the pillow and collapse in Sherlock’s arms.

“Happy birthday, luv.” Sherlock whispers as he kisses my head.


	15. Of Jam and Bombs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry it took me forever on this one. Life hit me. Apparently real life is a thing?

Morning after John’s birthday, I wake up and I smile. It wasn’t a forced smile. I’m starting to feel like I could be happy with him. The fear of getting bored in a relationship is now gone. I’ve decided that I will treat my relationship as an experiment. After all, isn’t that what a relationship is, learning all you can about the other person? 

 

I twist my head around and look at John. So peaceful, so handsome, a bundle of rage and love, so… perfect. He shows emotions when I cannot. How could I ever tell John how I feel about him. How can I tell him that the mind of Sherlock Holmes goes blank when I try to describe my love for him. My John, who tastes like jam and smells like rain. Who can make my heart skip a beat with one single glance. I’m madly in love with this man. 

 

I reach over and  grab the box of nicotine patches that sit on my nightstand. I rip open a patch and put it on my forearm. Not nearly as satisfying as a morning cigarette, but It’ll have to do. John would have my head if I lit a cigarette. Something about, “Not good for your health.”

 

John is asleep on his stomach. I had pulled most of the blankets off him during the night. He was covered from the waist down with only the sheet.His face was turned toward me, his mouth was slightly open, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to kiss those lips. Moving slowly as not to wake him, I shifted slightly. My face got close to his and I could feel his slow breath falling hot onto my skin. I touch my lips to him and I feel electricity course through my veins. My lips linger on his for a few moments. I soak in the taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and his scent. He smells like rain, and somehow, still tastes like jam.

 

As I pull away his eyes flutter open.

 

“Sherr..” His voice is thick with sleep. “Mmm… Morning, Sherlock.” He stretches and curls back up on my chest, making my heart soar. 

 

His eyes meet mine. “Sherlock, your heart is racing. Are you ok?” 

 

“John, dear John.” I smile and give a small sigh. “We both know that I’ll never be ok. But waking up with you next to me, well, that is the best adventure I could ever have. And I get to live it every day.” 

 

“Well, almost every day, you clot. You only sleep every few nights!” He gives me a prod and we both chuckle. 

 

“John… I don’t do sentiment… I’m sorry if you need more from me.”

 

“Sherlock, shut up. I swear you just like the sound of your own voice.”  Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know he’s rolling them at me. 

 

“I like the sound of yours better.” I could feel his smile against my chest and we settled into a comfortable silence.

 

A buzzing noise came from the nightstand and I looked over. A picture of Lestrade’s face was illuminating my phone. I don’t bother to hide my excitement, I snatch up my phone and sit up, causing John to groan in protest and roll over. 

 

“Sher..”

 

“Sherlock, I know it’s you. I bloody called you. Meet me at the yard in 30 minutes. There’s been a bombing.”

 

“Yes, alright.” 

 

I hang up the phone and jump up, jumping on the bed.

 

“Let me guess, murder?” John yawns, pulling himself out of bed.

 

“Bombs, John! Bombs!”

 

“Oh yeah, even better. I’ll go make tea, we have time for tea, yeah?”

 

“Yes, fine, tea.” I scramble off the bed and rush around gathering my clothes together. For good measure, and to save time, I threw together some clothes for John and laid them out on the bed for him. I dress myself in a robin’s egg blue button up, it’s guaranteed to drive John insane all day. I throw on a pair of slacks and a belt and throw my shoes on. 

 

I walk into the kitchen where John is leaning on the counter rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I take a few quick strides and wrap my arms around him. 

 

“Nothing like a nice murder first thing in the morning to cheer you up, Sherlock.” He gives me a quick hug and turns back to the tea as the kettle starts to whistle.  We down a quick breakfast of  biscuits and tea and he heads off to the bedroom to change while I brush my teeth. 

 

John walked into the bathroom still buttoning his shirt. “You’re awful chipper. Should I be scared?” He gave my ass a pinch and grabbed his toothbrush. Within five minutes we were outside hailing a cab. 

 

There was no traffic and we managed to get to Scotland Yard within 15 minutes. We quickly find Lestrade, his whole office a mad house, people running every which way, phones ringing off the hook and Lestrade shouting something into his mobile.

 

“Yes, of course I have my best men on it! Who do you take me for? Seriously, my… Oh, he’s here now. Gotta go.” He covered his mouth and whispered something into the phone before hanging up.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “How’s Mycroft this morning?”  John gave me a look, as if it were incredibly difficult to deduce that he was on the phone with my brother.

 

“He’s fine thanks for asking. Now. Shall we?” he motioned to an empty office and we walked in, closing the door behind us. 

 

“It’s been a bloody mad house in here since the first bomb went off.” Lestrade rubbed his face with his hands.

 

“First bomb? There’s been more than one?” John stood a little straighter. I loved it when his military training kicked in. But now was not the time to admire him. 

 

“Yeah, bomb went off in a shop SOHO this morning. Small, but did a fair amount of damage. Three more have gone off, all residential.”

 

“Suspects?” John now had his hands his behind is back, face screwed into a concerned look.

 

“Yeah, bloke by the name of. Aatos Salomon. He has quite a history. Just got out of prison a few weeks ago for killing a man, Kelvin Travis. His daughter saw the whole thing, poor girl. He only did 15 years.”

 

“Let me guess.” I cut in. “He’s targeting everyone to who helped put him there. You need me.. Us…” I give a sideways glance to John, “to help you find him. Preferably without him blowing anything else up. I’m assuming my brother was calling to make sure the situation was under control. How’s that going, by the way? Is the sex reeeeaaaally worth it?”

 

“Sherlock… timing.” John looks at me, and I can tell he wants to smack me. Oh, how I’d love that. No, I can’t think like that. He’d say there are innocent people who needed saving, and that I should get my head out of the gutter.

 

“Right. So this, Aatos bloke…” Clearing his throat, John took out his notebook and started making notes. “Where was he seen last?” 

 

“His flat, oddly enough. Which is on the other side of Battersea Park." Lestrade takes a deep breath before continuing.

 

"We have reason to believe he has fled his flat. But we don't know where. Sherlock, God help me, we need you to go down there and see if you can dig up any information on where he could be.

 

Guys, I just need your help locating him. Got that? Don’t need you to be heroes. We’ve got the other bombs covered, which leaves little manpower for the hunt. Just, help us catch him. Ok?”

 

“Seriously, Lestrade. What do you take me for?” I roll my eyes and walk out of the office.

 

“John, I mean it… I don’t want you guys in danger. But we really need the help. Do your best to keep him under control. Ok?” 

 

“I heard that, Lestrade! Coming, John?” 

 

“Right, yeah. I’m coming.” John looks sympathetically at Lestrade then turns to run after me. 

 

“So, what’s the plan.” John asked as we were leaving the mad house.

 

“Catch the bad guy, go home and shag.” At least a few heads turned at my comment and I let a smile slip. 

 

“I love you, but really, Sherlock. Timing!” Despite his protests he slips a hand into mine as we walk out of Scotland Yard.

 

We get into another taxi and head to the address Lestrade gave us. Once there we get out and look around. It looks like a normal London Street at a first glance. But I notice something different. One of the flats on the bottom floor had all it's shades drawn. Even from this distance I could tell the windows were painted black. Probably spray paint. 

 

John followed my gaze. "Someone certainly has privacy issues."

 

"Yes. And I believe that is our flat." I walk over to the front door and find myself in a dimly lit hallway. 

 

"This way." We walk to the flat and notice that the door is slightly ajar. John silently draws his gun and I take a moment to enjoy the sight. 

 

"Right. I'll go first, Sherlock. Stay behind me. We don't know if this man is armed." John whispers to me. He presses himself against the wall and nudges the door open with his foot it reveals a sitting room that looks empty except for furniture.

 

"John. He probably isn't here. This is ridiculous." I start to push my way past him but he stops me with a glance. That glance could have spoiled milk. I let out an exasperated sigh and say, "Yes, Captain." And give him a mocked salute.

 

John cautiously enters the room, gun out straight in front of him. When he has deemed it safe he motions me in, slowly crossing into what appears to be a bedroom. After a quick sweep of the house it's apparent that Aatos is not here. 

 

"Right. Seems safe enough. Now what are we looking for?" John stuffs his gun into his waistband, but keeps a hand on it. Clearly not at ease. 

 

"Clues, John. Anything that can tell us where he has been, or where he might go. Do you see a computer?"  

 

"Ya. There was a laptop on the bed in the next room. I'll check in here, shall I?"

 

I give John a kiss on the lips. 

 

"This is why you are the only one for me, John." I turn and head towards the bedroom. 

 

The room is small, and sparingly furnished. The bed sad on a square area rug, there was a nightstand with a lamp on it, and a wardrobe. I open the wardrobe. Empty. Clearly he doesn't plan on coming back here. I scoop up the laptop and turn to go into the sitting room with John. 

 

*click*

 

I freeze. The floor is hard and smooth beneath my foot, and it had depressed slightly. My heart jumped to my throat. I knew it was not a floorboard that I had stepped on. We were in the flat of a known bomber. I had just stepped on a pressure pad. Any movement could be my last. 

 

John saw me stop moving and gave me a look. Seeing the fear in my eyes he started to rush over to me.

 

"John! Stop moving and stand as still as you can. I'll explain in a moment." He gives me a look, but hearing the panic in my he stands still, facing me. I keep even pressure on my both my feet and pull my phone out of my pocket. I dial Lestrade's number and after three rings he answers. 

 

"Sherlock. That was fast. What did you find?"

 

"Lestrade. It seems I'm in need of your assistance. John and I have found another bomb. And I happen to be standing on it. Pressure pad, it would seem.”

 

“Bollocks! I’ll be there soon.” I hang up and place the phone back in my pocket and meet John’s gaze. 

 

“Sherlock, you’re…. you’re standing on a bomb?” 

 

“Yes, I believe so. I’m sorry, John. Please don’t move. We don’t know that this is the only one. Lestrade is on his way.”

 

“Wait, so you’re saying that you are standing on a bloody bomb?” John cocks his head at me and I can see the panic he’s desperately trying to hold at bay. 

 

“John, it’ll be ok… I, I don’t know how. But it’ll be ok.” I try to reassure him, but truthfully, I’m not sure it will be ok. 

 

I figure I’ll have a long wait, so I flip open the laptop and balance it on my left hand. Password protected. Easy. “Now, let’s see what you have to hide.” I muse, searching through the computer. Before I get though much I hear a ruckus outside the door.

 

“Dear me, Sherlock. Seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament.” 

 

“Noooooo! What is he doing here! John?” 

 

“Oi, I’ve been right here, did you see me call  your brother?” 

 

“John, Sherlock,” Lestrade calls in,” we’ve got a team coming in to sweep for more bombs, I need you guys to tell me exactly what happened.”

 

I refuse to yell to this man, it is below me, especially with my brother being there. So I take carefully take out my phone balance it on the open laptop and dial Lestrade’s number.

 

“Sherlock! What the bloody hell is going on?” Lestrade’s stressed voice comes through. I put him on speakerphone and tell him the story. 

 

After what seemed like ages, but was really only around 15 minutes, the bomb disposal team had given the rest of the building the ok. It was determined that I was on a pressure pad that was about 3 feet around in diameter. Free to move around, John came as close as he dared to me.

 

“Mycroft is out in the hall,” He motioned with his head, “On the phone. I guess now they’ve got the entire government looking for this man. They’ll find him, Sherlock. I promise.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

 

“You know I don’t.” 

 

“Bless you, John Watson, for flirting with a man standing on a bomb.” 

 

“Oh, you know me, bored with the mundane.” He gives me a half hearted smile. “I’m going to go check on Mycroft. Find anything on the computer?”

 

“There was a internet search done for abandoned churches on the outskirts of London. If we are very lucky, this man isn’t clever, and he could be hiding out in one.”

 

“Right, I’ll go tell Mycroft and Lestrade. You… Just wait right here.” 

 

Once he leaves I let my calm composure leave.  Ok. I’m standing on a pressure plate. That is the trigger to a bomb. A bomb. This is what I get for being so excited this morning. Focus, Sherlock! Focus. What do we know about Aatos? Very little.

He’s a criminal, just out of jail. 

He’s been targeting the people who helped put him in prison all those years ago.

He’s clearly a mad man. No that is irrelevant.

Is it? He had a bomb in his flat, in his bedroom.

Nooooooo…. it is not irrelevant!  Clearly this bomb was intended for someone! He didn’t just wake up one day and decided he wanted a bomb in his room! 

Perhaps if I look through e-mail I can find something. Perhaps phone records as well. Clearly he was going to lure someone into the flat, the bedroom. A woman?

 

I put my phone back in my pocket and give my attention to the computer. I, with ease, hack into the e-mail and find what I am looking for. “Gotcha.” I feel a surge of hope. 

 

I shake my head to clear away my mind palace and hear shouting. John’s shouting.

 

“No! I will NOT leave him, Greg. I’m going back in there!”

 

“John! I cannot allow you to go in there. That bomb could go off at any second. We don’t know if it’s on a timer. We haven’t found it yet.”

 

“Greg, I don’t care! He’s my boyfriend. If he dies, I die. Mycroft, get your pet under control!” John storms into the sitting room and I can see the rage on his face. Oh if I get out of here, the sex will be fantastic tonight. 

 

“Hello, luv. Having a nice time are we?” John asks.

 

“Mm yes, splendid.” I give him a wink. “Mycroft!!” I yell as loud as I can. “Get your British ass in here! Gavin, you too!” I can feel Mycroft’s eyes roll into the back of his head. 

 

“What now, brother mine?” He says as both men appear at the door frame. 

 

“Listen, clearly this pressure pad wasn’t meant for me. Rather, Laurel.”

 

“Laurel?” Greg asks in his most confused voice.

 

“Yes, of course, Laurel. Aatos was going to lure her here, under the pretext of sex, if I am correct, which I usually am. We just beat him here. Probably planning on sneaking out after leaving her to step on this pressure plate.”

 

“That all sounds great, Sherlock, but who is Laurel?” John cuts in.

 

I look at Mycroft, even he seems to want an answer to that. 

 

“Really, are you all so thick? Laurel! Laurel Travis. Daughter to Kelvin Travis. She was only 14 at the time of her father’s death. She’s 29 now. Now! Aatos had done an internet search for abandoned churches in and around London. Mycroft,” I direct my attention to my brother, “My guess is he’s planning to lay low there until things cool off, then make a run for it.”

 

“Very, observant.” Mycroft turns to walk out of the room, his mobile pressed to his ear.

 

“Excellent work, Sherlock, but I’m afraid I have to clear the building, that includes John.” Lestrade looks sympathetically at John.

 

“No, I will not have John leave me. Please… Gav… Greg, I can’t do this without him.”

 

“Fine, but if I ask again, assume I have a reason, and you’ll have to leave, John. Ok?” We both nod.

 

“John… thank you..” I start

 

“Sherlock, its fine. It’s all fine. Don’t mention it. We’ll get you out of here. 

 

“Do you remember the first time you said that to me?” I smile, recalling our first meal together.

 

“Yeah, I recall how madly in love with you I was, despite having just met you. But you had spent the entire day trying to impress me.” 

 

“I did no such thing! I don’t try to impress anyone.”

 

“Oi! What a load of bull shit. You’re entire life is spent trying to impress people. I know you, Sherlock, don’t lie to me.” He grins.

 

I smile and nod. “Fine, yes, I was trying to impress you. And I will never stop trying to impress you.” 

 

“Good, impress me then. Figure this out.” He shrugs at the room. 

 

“I am trying, John. But I’m afraid it is out of my hands at this point. Mycroft will have every free agent looking for this man, and Lestrade has men looking for the bomb. John, I’m afraid. I’m actually afraid. Will you distract me. Will you do that for me?”

 

“Of course, but, how? Not like I can distract you like last night.” He winks.

 

“Tell me a story, tell me a war story.”

 

“Hmm, Yeah, I can do that.” 

 

“Alright, I’ve never been great at telling stories. But here goes. We were all sitting around a fire one night, it had been relatively quiet for the past few weeks, the men were getting bored. Well, one of them Privates decided it would be a brilliant idea to throw a handful of 9mil ammo into the fire and dance above it. 

 

Well a few minutes went by, and we all had a jolly sight. The Private was dancing and jumping above and around the fire like some savage you’d see in the movies. We were all getting a good laugh. Then all of a sudden we hear

 

Bang! Bang, bang bang! The shots echoed around the empty buildings around us.

 

Yeah, the ammo was starting to go off. With this idiot directly above the fire. Then men, startled at first, roared with laughter. I shook my head and started to leave. Then, all of a sudden I hear a pained moan and the laughter stopped.

 

The Private was on the ground clutching his balls, writhing in pain. I rushed over to him just as the radio crackled. Our superiors were asking what had happened, they had heard what they thought were gunshots in a peaceful area. 

 

I ignored the radio for a second to assess the damage. It was difficult to tell with his clothes on, but it looked mostly superficial. I get on the radio to try to calm down my superiors down. Well, they wanted to know what happened, they wouldn’t take ‘We’re fine it was an accident.’ as an answer.

 

So, I respond with, ‘Sir, we’re all fine. It was a bit of friendly fire. A private accidentally shot his testicles.’ Still that wasn’t enough. I had to explain, in great detail, exactly what this idiot had done.”

 

I was roaring with laughter, watching John jump around, acting out the scene for me. It was getting hard to stand still, but I hadn’t laughed this hard in a very long time.

 

I was saved from more of the story by Lestrade coming in, looking rather grave.

 

“Sherlock, we’ve found the bomb. It’s, mostly, good news. Its directly below you, roughly the same size as the others. There is a way to turn it off from the bomb, but it requires a passcode. Also… It’s on a timer. Must have been set for an hour. We’ve got 15 minutes left. Now, don’t panic. But we have no idea what the pass code could be. And chances are we’ve only got one shot at it.” 

 

“Where is Mycroft? Any luck finding this man?” John asks, becoming serious again.

 

Just then Lestrade’s phone went off. Nearly startling me off the pressure pad. 

 

“Mycroft, give me good news. It’s on a timer, 15 minutes.”

 

Lestrade nodded a few times, giving a few “mmhmm. Yeah? Alright. Yep, thanks.” He hung up.

 

“Well, they got Aatos. But he isn’t talking. Mycroft is, uh, working with him, shall we say.” 

 

Ten minutes go by, still no word. 

 

“John, Sherlock… I’m afraid it’s time. John, I’ll give you a minute to say goodbye.” Lestrade just looks at me, nods and walks off. I swear a I saw a tear in his eye.

 

I swallow a lump in my throat. “Thank you for staying with me, John. You know how I feel about you.. But I’ll say it anyway. You, John Watson, you are the only person I could see myself growing old with. I love you. So much more than you will ever know.”

 

John clears his throat again and nods. “And, Sherlock, I love you.” 

 

I let a tear slip from my eyes and hoarsely say, “Now go. I won’t have you dead too.”

 

“Sherlock…” He whispers. “I wont leave you. Greg will have to take me out of here in cuffs if he’s that desperate.”

 

I look at my watch. “Three minutes then… Three minutes, and I can’t kiss you.”

 

We spend the remainder of our time in silence, checking our watches every few seconds. “Thirty seconds.” 

 

“Any regrets?” John asks.

I look at him and smile. “I have you. No regrets.”

 

“No regrets…” He repeats, and dares to reach for my hand.

 

I take it, and together we prepare for what is about to come.

  
  


******

 

Thirty seconds come and go. Another minute goes by. We’re alive. We look at each other, bewildered. 

 

“Sherlock!!” Lestrade’s voice pants from the hallway. “Mycroft did it! The bomb is no longer a threat!”

 

“Oh thank god.” I whisper and throw myself into John’s arms. He pulls me close, pushing my head against his shoulder nearly crushing me in his arms.

 

Lestrade is at our side in a few seconds and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Your brother… Oh that man is a genius. Though, I don’t think I want to know how he got that information.”

 

“What was it, the code?”

 

“Random series of numbers, even Mycroft couldn’t guess it.” 

 

I look at John and take his hand. “Lestrade… I’m going home, I’m going to fuck this man until he can’t walk straight. Please don’t bother me for the rest of the day. I’ll come down to the Yard tomorrow to fill out any paperwork you might require of me.” 

 

With that, I drag a red-faced John out of the flat and hail a taxi. Once in the taxi I pull John close and whisper, “Thank you.”

 

He answers by kissing me hard on the lips. “I can’t lose you. My heart couldn’t handle it, Sherlock.”


	16. The Woman

Sherlock does not like being bored. It hasn’t even been two weeks since our last case. To say he is moody, is well, an understatement. Sex can only appease him momentarily, and he’s had me hide most of his cigarettes. I say most. I’ve made sure to hide some where he can easily find them. I’d rather him smoking than relapsing back into drugs. 

We’ve had a few small cases, thanks to Lestrade. Sadly, cases that leave Scotland Yard baffled, are hardly worth Sherlock getting up and putting pants on. His last case, (you can read about it in my blog http://www.johnwatsonblog.co.uk/blog/02september) Sherlock got to witness the murder. I was out at dinner with Sarah. Trying to patch things up. Having an angry boss is not fun. 

Well, that was the beginning of September. It is now the 14th. Most days I see him pacing the flat, muttering, “Jim Moriarty.” Or some such variant. I know he has everyone in his homeless network searching for any sign of the man, but I fear that Mr. Moriarty is as clever, of not more, than Sherlock. We wont hear from him until he wants us too. Last night he was so frustrated he forgot to put the cover on the blender before making a batch of his homemade blood. I’ve been cleaning corn syrup off the walls for hours. You should have seen him though, splattered head to toe, in fake blood. Ruined a perfectly good sheet. 

Some of my days I spend at Surgery, I just need to get out of the flat. But despite having spent most of my early adult years working towards my medical license, I just don’t have it in me. Maybe if I got a job at a small G.P. No more of of this tedious Hospital business.

**Next day**

Sherlock woke me early, much to my annoyance. I had been in Dublin the day before and wanted nothing more than to sleep in. Sherlock had somehow managed to help a Detective Inspector out on a case in the countryside. I suspect Lestrade played a part in that. 

Well, while I was gone Sherlock had been “Talking to me” and apparently I “agreed” that he wouldn’t leave the flat for anything less than a 7. This time he wouldn’t be bothered to put his pants on. So I get dragged out of bed, Sherlock shoves my laptop at me hands me my coat and practically kicks me out the door, not before kissing me hard on the lips, whispering, “I’ll miss you, hurry home.” 

So, I drive out to the countryside, when I’m almost there I get a text. 

“Hook up to Wifi and skype me when you get there. - SH”

I get out of the car, and clearly the officers was expecting Sherlock. They all seemed baffled when I introduced myself. I quickly got hooked up to Wifi. Sherlock didn’t seem to care that it was a bit humiliating being chided at by a man wearing only a sheet through my laptop. At one point I even threatened to use the mute button. 

Well, just as things were getting interesting between Sherlock and D.I. Carter, when a young police officer comes over and says, “It’s for you, Sir.” just as Sherlock’s video cut out. I thought he had meant the phone he had pressed to his ear, but instead it was a helicopter. The pilot didn’t tell me where we were going, but flying over London, and hovering around Buckingham Palace, I was able to quickly guess. This smelled like Mycroft.

I walk into an absolutely gorgeous Parlor. Crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I walk around a corner and see Sherlock sitting on a sofa, wearing only a sheet, twiddling his toes in impatiens. I give him a look that says “What the hell is going on.” He just rolls his head and shrugs. We have a good chuckle about Sherlock not wearing pants inside Buckingham Palace, and I can only imagine what he must have looked like getting into the car to come here. Good job he wasn’t the one taking the helicopter. Might have lost his sheet.

Now, Mycroft would have my head if I mentioned who we met during our… meeting. So, all I can say is Sherlock and I now have to go meet a Dominatrix named Irene Adler. She had something, of importance. And ********** needed it back. 

We head back to the flat so Sherlock can change, and in the cab Sherlock starts giggling. He pulls a fancy ash tray out of his coat pocket. The very one that had been on the table in the palace. 

**Back at 221B**

“Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?” I call out to him as he’s throwing clothes around in the bedroom.

“Need the right armor, John! I’m going into battle!” As he shows off a yellow vest before ripping it off.

“Oi.. You are crazy, you know this, right?” 

“Crazy? Never, John!” He leans out of the bedroom with a charming grin on his face.

A few minutes later he comes out wearing the same clothes he had on when we got home. Wordlessly he grabs his coat and heads down the stairs. I jump up and run after him. Soon we’re in a cab on the way to this Dominatrix’s house. 

“Stop here please.” 

The cabbie pulls over and we get out. 

“Is this it?” I ask.  
“Close enough.” Sherlock takes a few steps and then looks at me.

“Punch me in the face.”

“Punch you?”I look at him in disbelief.

“Yes, punch me, in the face. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ when you’re speaking. But it’s usually subtext.”

Exasperated Sherlock says “Oh for God’s sake.” just as he punches me in my face.

Grunting in pain and reeling from the blow, I see Sherlock straighten and brace himself for my punch. I don’t know what happened. But at that moment all my pent up frustration and anger bubbled to the surface. Despite my anger, I punch him with my non-dominant hand, my right hand. I leave a nasty cut on his left cheek. 

“Thank you that… that was…” Sherlock grunts as I punch him in the stomach - again with my right hand- sending him crashing to the ground. My emotions get the best of me and I jump on him, wrapping my arms around his next half choking him. 

“Ok, I think we’re quite done now, John.” Sherlock says as he tries to pull me off. 

“You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier. I killed people.” I say quite savagely, surprising myself.

“You were a doctor!” Sherlock is still trying to pull me off. 

“I had bad days!”

Finally I let go of Sherlock, and he gives me the, “I-Am-So-Turned-On” look. Who knew…   
I mutter a quick apology, and as we walk the two streets to Miss Adlers house, Sherlock explains his plan. Just before we get to the house, Sherlock stuffs a piece of white plastic under his collar. Makes him look like a vicar. 

When we get there, Sherlock walks right up to the door, and rings the bell. A young woman answers the intercom. It is fantastic watching him go from well, Sherlock, to this scared injured man. 

“Hello?”

“Ooh, um, sorry to disturb you. Um. I’ve just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they took my wallet and, um, my phone. Ummm, please, could you help me?”

“I can phone the police if you want.”

“Thank you, thank you, could you, please? Oh, would you… would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you, thank you so much.”

We’re let into the house, and now it is my turn. “I - I saw it all happen. It’s ok, I’m a doctor. Now, have you got a first aid kit?”

I’m pointed in the direction of the kitchen for the first aid kit, as Sherlock is ushered into the front room.

When I come back with some water and a cloth for Sherlock’s face, there is a Woman… a naked Woman, standing over Sherlock. I offer her the napkin in my hand to put on, and Sherlock gives her his coat. Feeling a bit more comfortable, I sit down. 

Now, I’m pretty sure Mycroft would have my head if I mention anymore about what happened. Needles to say, it involved Americans… Bloody Americans… and ended with Sherlocked drugged and passed out on the floor. Thankfully Lestrade was able to help me get him home and into bed. I daresay Sherlock will be pissed that the Woman took off with his coat though… I’m pretty sure his phone was his coat pocket as well. 

I don’t think that is the last we’ll see of Irene. Which concerns me. I saw the way Sherlock looked at her. It was more than admiration. He was… infatuated by her. I might need to thoroughly shag him tonight… Remind him that he loves me.


End file.
